


baby, baby

by andnowforyaya



Category: B.A.P, K-pop
Genre: Age Difference, Babysitting, Bromance, Coming Out, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Gen, Hospitals, Kid Fic, M/M, Parent Death, Single Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-02-28 14:00:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 33,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2735195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andnowforyaya/pseuds/andnowforyaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daehyun lands a babysitting gig for the summer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [A Russian translation is in progress!](https://ficbook.net/readfic/4795165/12404634) Thanks, [Nontibirosameaflorebat](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Nontibirosameaflorebat/pseuds/Nontibirosameaflorebat)!

“I already made the deposit,” Daehyun tells his father over the phone, trying to keep his voice from rising. They’ve been at it for over an hour, going back and forth debating the pros and cons of Daehyun staying the summer in the city to take a few classes and get ahead on credit with the possibility of graduating early. The battery on his phone beeps a warning as he glances around to see if there is anyone staring at the boy shouting in the library. “We can’t get that back, you know.”

“I just wish you would talk to me about these things before jumping in head first,” his dad says. “You’re always doing this. I was hoping you would be back to help with the shop. You know your mother isn’t doing well, and your brother works full-time. Besides, where are you going to stay? Is there housing over the summer?”

“Youngjae said I could room with him for a bit while I look for a sublet.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re doing this so you can spend your summer with Youngjae.”

“Dad! No, I’m not. I just really think this is a good idea. I can get done with my degree earlier _and_ build up my resume. And I think it’s more cost-effective.”

“I hadn’t budgeted for this…”

“I know. I’ll get a job.”

“ _And_ take your summer classes? Are you sure?”

His phone beeps again, this time louder and more insistent. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I have some money saved up and I’ll just look for something where I can, like, study at the same time. Don’t worry.”

Dad sighs. “I worry. You haven’t come home in a while. I worry about you.”

“I’m fine,” Daehyun insists, as his phone gives him his final warning. “I’m sorry, my phone’s running low. I don’t think I can stay on. I’ll give you another--”

The battery dies. Daehyun brings his phone down from his ear and stares at it, taking his charger out and looking around surreptitiously for an outlet. It’s just a couple of minutes to his next class, though, so when he finds one in the wall adjacent to the cluster of desk cubbies where he is sitting, he doesn’t think it’s worth it.

Whatever. He talked to his dad. Now, to start on the job search.

.

The job search goes horribly. For three weeks, no matter how many feelers he puts out, there’s nothing. The term will end soon, and after a week of break, the summer semester will start up again. Daehyun needs money for books, rent, food...everything. He wonders if there’s something wrong with him. Why won’t anyone give him a call back? An email? Anything?

Youngjae tells him he needs to get his butt moving on the job front (not like he hasn’t been trying) because even if they’re best friends and he’s more than willing to help Daehyun when it comes to providing shelter, if this continues then the sublet situation is also looking dire, and he’s going to have to ask him to help out with rent.

“Expand your circle,” Youngjae advises him over poorly made instant coffee one morning after Daehyun stayed over because they tried to study and then ended up playing shooters until three in the morning. “Look on Craigslist, or in the newspaper. _Someone_ must want to give you a job.”

Daehyun makes a face at him and then really makes a face at the bitter coffee. Gross.

This is how he finds himself perusing the classifieds in the back section of the library-subscribed newspaper. He doubts he’ll have any luck -- any job worth checking out nowadays will have a post online in multiple places -- but he decides to humor Youngjae just so he can tell him his plan was no help, later.

Most of the ads are normal -- ads for a housekeeper, petwalker, personal assistants. None are particularly appealing. Some of the ads are really...weird. Ads asking for girls who want to be pampered, boys who like fancy cars. “Must love collars,” one of them reads.

Finally, his eyes skim over something promising:

_Babysitter needed for two boys, 5 and 6. Hours flexible, at least 20 hrs/wk. Must have previous experience. Mandatory background check and fingerprinting. Competitive pay._

A number follows the ad. Daehyun reads over the blurb again. Could be worth a shot. He loves kids, and he’s good with them. The fact that he’s studying Elementary Education in school should definitely help his chances. He snaps a picture of the ad with his phone so that he can call the number after classes.

.

Daehyun pinches his phone between his shoulder and ear and listens for the dial tone, laptop perched on his thighs as he sits against the headboard of his bed. His roommate is out for the evening so he’s got the dorm room to himself.

The line picks up after three rings.

“Kim,” the man at the other end says, clipped.

“Ah, hello? Hi, I’m calling about the ad? Your ad in the paper. For the babysitting position?” Daehyun nearly drops the phone, fumbling with the sentences coming out of his mouth.

“How old are you?”

“21?”

“Are you not sure? Why did that sound like a question.”

“I’m 21,” Daehyun says with a pout, even though the other can’t see.

“Good. Name? Previous experience?” The other man’s voice is faintly gravelly, like a smoker’s.

“Jung Daehyun. Um, I’m studying to become an elementary teacher and also, uh, my mom ran a daycare out of our house growing up, so I have a lot of experience with kids. Particularly young kids. I guess I should also mention I've done a rotation as an assistant teacher in a classroom for school, so there's--”

“How soon can you start?”

“Hold on -- can I -- can I ask what your name is first?”

The other man exhales, annoyed. “Kim Himchan. I’m head of external relations at a major firm. How soon can you start?”

“Well, classes end soon,” Daehyun answers quickly, spurred on by Mr. Kim’s urgency. “So I can start right after. I’m finalizing my summer class schedule but I can pretty much work within whatever times you need.”

“Come by on Friday for a two-hour trial run. If it goes well and you pass the background check, I’ll hire you for the summer. What are your pay requirements?”

Daehyun thought about it earlier but the logic flies right out of his head at Mr. Kim’s rapid questioning. What had he wanted to ask for? 30…? Maybe 35…?

Mr. Kim exhales again. “I’ll pay 45,000 _won_ an hour. How does that sound?”

Daehyun’s head just about explodes. 45,000 _won_ an hour for at least 20 hours a week...he’d have no problem at all paying Youngjae his portion of rent, if it comes down to it.

“Is that enough?” Mr. Kim asks him roughly when he’s silent for too long.

“Yeah, yes. Oh, yes, that’s good. Um, so--”

“Give me your email. I’ll have my assistant send over some documents for you to fill out for the background check. You’ll need to get fingerprinted yourself. My assistant will also send the address where you should be on Friday at 3:30pm. Bring all your paperwork and ID. Got all that?”

He can hear the older man smirking over the phone, like he thinks Daehyun can’t keep up.

“Yup,” Daehyun says, swallowing his spite. He gives Mr. Kim his email address.

“Good,” Mr. Kim says. “None of the other candidates worked out, so we’ll see if you fare any better.” He hangs up.

Daehyun listens to the dial tone in disbelief, wondering what he’s just gotten himself into.

.


	2. Chapter 2

“I can’t believe...you did that,” Youngjae tells him in between bites of pizza, balancing the plate on his knee so he can start up the game with the controller in his hands. “What if he’s a serial killer?”

“Thanks, Youngjae,” Daehyun says, mouth and hands similarly full. “That’s great. Thanks for affirming my actions. I land a job and you ask me why I didn’t check to see if he was a serial killer. Are you implying I can’t get a job otherwise?”

“I just mean he moved really quickly. And you don’t know anything about him. And now you’re going to his _house_?”

“Well, it’s a babysitting job. Where else am I going to babysit his kids?”

“You mean his demon-spawn.”

“Don’t talk about kids like that,” Daehyun says, managing to dig his elbows into Youngjae’s ribs so that he jumps and the character he’s customizing ends up with a useless weapon and he has to start over.

“He seems rude. I bet his kids are rude.”

“Maybe they’re perfect angels. You never know.”

“ _All the other candidates died in hellfire started by my lovely children._ Isn’t that what he said?” Youngjae asks as he finishes creating his character. Daehyun had finished a while ago, so he continues munching on pizza.

“No,” Daehyun sputters, trying to keep all his food in his mouth. “Don’t you like kids? Why are you being like this?”

“I like kids just fine. I just think it’s bullshit he gave you such a hard time.” Youngjae presses the start key with a particular jabbing motion that makes Daehyun wince.

“Maybe it was a test of my character,” Daehyun offers appeasingly.

“ _I’ll_ test your character,” Youngjae says lowly. He starts the game.

.

Daehyun checks the address on his phone and looks up at the building that is supposed to be Mr. Kim’s house. It isn’t necessarily tall nor imposing, sitting sandwiched between an upscale hotel and a modern office building, but it’s the very fact that it’s a _house_ in the middle of a city where you’re lucky if you can get a broom closet for a decent price that makes it a bit intimidating and new and cool, and Kim Himchan _owns property._

It seems to be three levels, with a balcony on the top floor and also access to the roof, and its outer appearance is perfectly manicured, with clear glass windows and planters underneath them.

Daehyun rings the doorbell, adjusting the straps of his bookbag. He had to come right after class to make it, and didn’t have time to change. He hopes wearing a pair of his nicer jeans and a t-shirt that isn’t ripped anywhere is acceptable, since he imagines much of what he will be doing is rolling around on the floor with hyped up children.

The doorbell seems to echo within the cavernous space of the house, resonating through its floors before Daehyun hears footsteps and then the buzz of someone unlocking and letting him in.

He enters quickly, immediately met with a gush of cold air from the house’s central cooling system that makes him even more aware of the sweat that had gathered on his skin. He appears to be in some sort of receiving room, closed off from the house by another door. A shelving unit stands against one of the walls and it is filled with pairs of shoes. “Hello?” he asks uncertainly.

“ _Leave your shoes in the entryway and come in_ ,” someone says from beyond the second door.

Daehyun does as he’s told, pausing with a deep breath before opening the second door.

“Hello? Mr. Kim?” he tries again when he’s met with an empty first floor. Ahead of him is the kitchen, large enough to contain a breakfast bar and small table for meals. To his right is the living room. To his left is a set of stairs.

“Oh, good,” a man says from his left. Daehyun looks, and someone is standing at the top of the stairs, mostly in shadow, his silhouette slim and cut. “You’re here. Hm, you don’t look 21.”

“I brought a copy of my license,” Daehyun says. “And of my passport. And all the paperwork. I can assure you I’m 21.”

The figure starts to walk down the steps, slowly, deliberately, and Daehyun takes an involuntary step backwards as he approaches. When they’re on level ground, he has to look up at him, since he’s a good head shorter than the other man.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Kim,” Daehyun says, holding out his hand. “I’m Jung Daehyun.”

“Oh, I’m not Himchan,” the man says, taking his hand anyway and shaking it. Alarm creeps up Daehyun’s arm quickly but the man smiles and it reaches his eyes. “I’m Bang Yongguk. I work with him. Something caught him up and he couldn’t be here this afternoon so I offered to set you up.”

“Oh,” Daehyun says, frowning. Yongguk still hasn’t let go of his hand. Something about him is intense but calming. He’s probably great with kids. “So, Mr. Kim...isn’t even going to be here? To vet me? The person he’s potentially hiring?”

“He trusts my opinion a lot,” Yongguk says, finally letting go. “The kids are getting changed. They should be down here in three...two…”

As if on cue, an explosion rocks the second floor of the house. No, not an explosion -- a thundering herd of elephants. Actually, it’s just two tiny children tripping down the stairs shouting about playing ‘dragons and wizards’ or something of the like and latching onto either of Yongguk’s legs when they reach the bottom.

“ _Samchon_!” they chant in unison. “Samchon, samchon, samchon! Let’s play!”

Yongguk calmly takes their little hands in his and holds them to his sides, maneuvering them both so they can see the stranger in their home.

“Who’s this? Cousin?” the taller child asks, looking up at Yongguk with a pinched expression.

“He doesn’t look like _samchon_ ,” the other child says, randomly kicking his feet.

“This is Jung Daehyun,” Yongguk explains. “He’s going to be your new babysitter.”

The taller child makes a face like he’s eaten something horrible and immediately falls to his knees, wailing at the top of his lungs. Daehyun’s eyes widen and he looks to Yongguk for an explanation, but he has none. The older man just shrugs. The other child quickly follows suit, though his crying doesn’t seem quite as sincere.

“This is Junhong,” Yongguk says, waving the hand of the taller child. “He’s younger, five. This is Jongup. Six. I’ll be upstairs in the office doing work. Oh, I’ll also take your paperwork to process, now. Himchan will be home in two hours.”

“Wait,” Daehyun asks, face going pale at Yongguk’s words. Even so, he shrugs his bookbag off and leans it against the wall close to the door so he can kneel down to where Junhong is crying. Hesitantly, he reaches out for him and feels a bit of the anxiety release from his chest when Junhong reaches back and crawls forward, seeking comfort. Junhong latches his arms around his neck and Daehyun groans when he tries to stand with the added weight. He’s not light. “You’re leaving me?”

“I’m just going upstairs. Didn’t he mention it was a trial run?”

“But you don’t know who I am.”

Yongguk rolls his eyes. “Believe me. Himchan is _very_ thorough. He checked you out already with the information you gave him via email. You cleared. We have no reason to believe this will be a problem. Also, he’s got a tricked out security system.” Yongguk points up at a camera hiding in one corner of the room, and then Daehyun notices others. “It’s just two hours. One-and-a-half, now.”

“So you’ll be upstairs.” At that, Yongguk lets go of Jongup, who shuffles forward to tug on Daehyun’s hand, whispering something up at him, but his words are lost in all the noise.

“I’ll be upstairs,” Yongguk reassures him with that gentle smile. “They’ve got a play room behind the kitchen. No TV since it’s only a couple of hours. No sugar. Emergency contact list on the fridge -- though I really hope you won’t be needing that. Good luck.”

“Where’s _samchon_ going,” Jongup asks with wet eyes, tugging insistently on Daehyun’s hand as he watches Yongguk go back up the stairs.

“To work. He’s very busy,” Daehyun says. “That’s why I’m here right now. To look after you guys while your _samchon_ works.”

“And Daddy,” Junhong wails right in his ear. “Daddy’s busy, too.”

“Yeah,” Daehyun sighs, shifting Junhong up a little higher and suppressing a shudder when Junhong rubs his wet nose against Daehyun’s shoulder. “What were you saying before, Jonguppie?”

“Will you be the dragon?” Jongup whispers. “I’m always the dragon.”

“Sure,” Daehyun says with a grin at the boy, who sniffles a bit but smiles back. They start the short walk to the play room. “What do I have to do?”

“We’re wizards,” Jongup says. “We fight you, and you die.”

“Ah,” Daehyun starts, stumbling. Junhong growls against his shoulder at being jostled. “Maybe we can try a different story this time?”

“Like what,” Junhong asks him, sitting back in his arms and nearly toppling them both over with the sudden shift in weight. Luckily, Daehyun corrects himself and averts disaster.

“Like...maybe the dragon is actually a knight that was cursed to be a dragon forever until a wizard could free him from his curse.”

Junhong wrinkles his nose at him. His stare seems to belong on the face of someone who is well over the age of five. “Sounds dumb, but fine.”

He all but leaps from Daehyun’s arms, immediately diving into a chest of toys in one corner of their playroom, which is decked out with stuffed animals, props, and playsets. They all seem new and relatively unused, and Daehyun wonders about these kids. He wonders how many babysitters they’ve had and whether or not their father plays with them, and if their mother is in the picture.

He knows better than to ask.

.


	3. Chapter 3

Daehyun has a plan for these kids. First, 25 minutes of high-intensity play; next, 15 minutes to cool down with a read-aloud; then, 20 minutes of a low-intensity activity so that Daehyun can prepare snacks for them; and finally, 30 minutes to chill and eat until Mr. Kim comes home. Hopefully they’ll be tuckered out by the time his trial run is over, calm and angelic for their father.

Of course, like many of his plans, this one falls to pieces before it can even be implemented, as he realizes quickly he didn’t take into consideration the sheer amount of _energy_ Junhong has, as well as his penchant to tantrum if things don’t go his way while his brother Jongup watches on in bemusement.

He suspects they are both trying to test him, can see a hint of devious glee in their eyes when he gets flustered because he doesn't know where Daddy keeps the extra batteries for the light saber Junhong now wants to play with that he also can't find.

He's actually _fairly_ certain they are testing him, to see where his limits lie, to see how far they can push him before he snaps, before he leaves in a flurry of movement and tears. He bets with all the money in his bank that the other sitters all left like that, never willing to give them a chance. It kind of breaks his heart.

Also, never let it be said that Jung Daehyun was ever one to turn down a challenge. He _loves_ kids, and he's gonna love these kids, too.

"Junhong, Junhongie," he cajoles the crying boy. They found the light saber but it won't light up or make noise. Jongup plays with another one, similarly out of power, tapping the action end against the floor impatiently and looking at where Junhong is standing stiffly and stubbornly in the middle of the play room and Daehyun is on his knees before him. "I'm sorry I don't know where the batteries are. Maybe we can play something else and when Daddy gets home we can ask him so we can play with them next time?"

Junhong screeches, complete with foot-stomping and tiny fists trying to beat against Daehyun's chest, "I wanna play now!"

He catches his fists in his hands gently but firmly, a bit surprised by the sudden display of violence. “Do not hit me,” he says, voice stern, and Junhong hiccups once before his sniffles stop and he looks up at Daehyun with red-rimmed eyes and a wet, dripping nose. “That hurts.”

“Sorry,” Junhong whispers. “ ‘m sorry.”

“I forgive you, but try not to do it again, okay?”

“Okay,” Junhong whispers. He seems stunned. Daehyun wipes under his eyes with the bottom of his t-shirt as Junhong slumps with the light saber in his hands, pouting.

“I know there are no batteries, but maybe we can use magic to make them work,” Daehyun says with an air of secrecy about him.

Jongup perks up at that, but Junhong frowns at him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, aren’t you wizards? Can’t you do a spell to make them work?”

Jongup jumps up from the floor and grins with his whole face, short legs working to reach them. “Yeah! Alakazam! Bwahah!” He swings the light saber and taps his brother on the rear. Then he makes a noise with his mouth that’s somewhere between a growl and a howl. Daehyun thinks it’s supposed to mimic the sound effects from a light saber attack. “One point, me!” Jongup declares gleefully in a sweet voice.

Junhong says, “That’s not fun,” even as Jongup dances around them both, smacking them lightly at intervals and making ridiculous noises, making his own fun. Junhong watches his brother and a smile slowly curves across his lips. “Hyung is weird,” he giggles.

“Bwaowowow,” Jongup says, which is a better approximation of the light saber noise. “I’m winning!”

“Not fair,” Junhong complains. “Mine isn’t on!”

“Then you should turn it on,” Daehyun tells him. He smiles at Junhong when Junhong looks at him blankly. “Like this.”

Summoning up all of his skill in acting that he refined during fourth period drama class in high school and that one time he decided to audition for the Spring musical, he wiggles his fingers over the light saber and announces, “I call forth the spirit of this light saber! Please help Junhong win this battle for justice!”

He has no idea what he’s saying but Junhong seems to buy it, the blank look on his face quickly replaced by wonder as his imagination kickstarts and the light saber seems to vibrate in his hand. “It’s working!”

He turns and, with a vicious battle cry, seeks out his brother.

10 minutes down, 80 more to go.

.

Although the first few minutes creep by as the kids feel Daehyun out, once they get into the rhythm of things, it nears the 90-minute mark sooner than Daehyun can blink.

“Ah!” he cries, checking the time on his phone quickly, “your Dad will be home soon, guys. Do you want to fix a snack for him as a surprise?”

Somehow he’s found himself underneath a mountain of pillows with Junhong and Jongup clambering to climb to the top, their weights providing a not-so-gentle massage on his back.

“Guys,” he wheezes as Jongup steps with particular force on his kidney. “Guys, we should make something for your Dad for when he gets home.”

“Rawr!” Junhong growls. “Rawr! The monster speaks! Rawrrrr!”

Jongup climbs off of the pillow mountain and lies down next to Daehyun, prone and giggling. “You’re fun,” he says. “Junhongie, c’mon let’s make something for Daddy, like hyung says.”

“Oh thank god,” Daehyun exhales when Junhong slides off of him, too, allowing him to shake off the pillows and emerge from under the pile.

Junhong tugs him up by the hand and latches on when they start to walk to the kitchen. “Can we play after? Hyung? Hyung? Can we play after?”

“We’ll have to ask Daddy,” Daehyun says. “When Daddy gets home I’ll need to go home, too.”

“Oh,” Junhong says, steps slowing and suddenly sullen.

“What do you think we should make?” Daehyun asks next, in an effort to keep the momentum going. Jongup bounds into the kitchen and opens the fridge without delay, taking out a jar of kimchi and a tupperware container full of rice. He balances everything precariously in his arms before Daehyun notices and takes the containers from him, putting them safely on the counter. “Thanks, Jonguppie.”

“Let’s heat up the rice,” Jongup suggests.

“Can you work the microwave?”

“Yeah!” Jongup says excitedly.

Daehyun puts the tupperware into the microwave for him and Jongup stares at the buttons with delight.

“No!” he says. “I can’t. I don’t know what to do.”

They spend the next five minutes taking turns pressing numbers on the microwave under Daehyun’s instruction, starting over a couple of times when Junhong misjudges where his finger will land. Still, when the microwave starts whirring, the two boys stand back and high-five each other.

They’re actually adorable.

Daehyun tasks them with cleaning off the table and then setting it, telling them to be extra careful with the plates, as he finds eggs in the fridge and fries them in a skillet. He sets a package of _kim_ sheets on the table, too, and asks the boys to separate them and lay them nicely on a plate.

Just as he’s turning the burner off under the eggs, the front door opens and Daehyun turns in time to see one of the kitchen chairs topple over as the boys make a mad dash for their father. Thankfully, no food was lost in the shuffle. Daehyun quickly plates the eggs and puts them on the table, too, righting the chair and wiping his hands on his jeans for good measure while walking over to the man standing in the doorway who must be Kim Himchan.

He has to consciously snap his jaw shut because Kim Himchan is possibly the loveliest, most sharp-featured man he’s ever seen. His jawline and the folds of his suit could cut through rock. His short black hair is neatly styled, and his eyes turn up slightly at the corners, giving him the sly air of a fox.

And what a fox indeed, Daehyun’s mind can’t help but supply. Mr. Kim is similar in height to Yongguk, the man he met earlier, though just a bit wider in the shoulders and hips. Daehyun can feel heat rising to his cheeks just thinking about his figure under the crisp suit.

They shake hands, introducing themselves, his hands cool and strong against Daehyun’s, and that’s when the younger man notices Junhong pouting up at his father, knocking his head against his hip and wrapping his arms around his legs. He wants to be held. Himchan reaches down and ruffles his hair and Junhong whines but doesn’t complain.

“I see you didn’t burn down the house,” Mr. Kim says, striding toward the kitchen and looking over the food that’s been set out. The boys trail after him like little lost ducklings.

“It was a near thing,” Daehyun jokes, stiffening when Mr. Kim scowls at him over his shoulder, unamused. Mr. Kim takes a seat, the chair scraping back on the floor. “I mean, of course I didn't burn down the house.”

Daehyun follows him and sits awkwardly when Mr. Kim nods his head at one of the chairs next to him. Junhong stands at his father’s side, looking up at him beseechingly while his father prepares plates for the kids, doling out portions of kimchi, eggs, and seaweed to set beside their small bowls of rice. Maybe he isn’t totally incompetent as a caretaker, Daehyun thinks.

Daehyun's attention is on the younger child, though, and he takes pity on Junhong and scoots his bottom over on his chair to make a small space for him as Jongup climbs into the seat opposite him. “Here, Junhongie. You can sit with me.”

Junhong ends up in his lap instead, which he doesn’t mind at all, the kid’s bony butt digging into his thighs, but Mr. Kim gives him a look he can’t immediately decipher when he slides Junhong’s plate over to him. The expression is equal parts cautious and curious and disappointed, and Daehyun’s heart drops in his chest. He’s surprised by how quickly he became attached to these kids, and now it looks like he’s not going to be offered the job.

Maybe he should have made something more substantial for the light meal? Maybe this was part of the test. Mr. Kim certainly seemed like the type to want to come home to peace and order and dinner on the table.

The older man starts to eat with precision, his fingers looking graceful even while handling chopsticks while his kids use little spoons to scoop rice into their mouths.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Mr. Kim says after another bite. His eyebrows dip, and Daehyun swallows.

“I’m okay,” Daehyun says. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t think he could eat right now, anyway. Not with balancing Junhong in his lap and not with all the butterflies in his stomach. He’d spill everything all over the place.

“Hm,” Mr. Kim says.

Daehyun ducks his eyes and holds Junhong just a little tighter, thinking he’s once again foiled his chances at getting this job. Junhong wriggles a bit at the pressure but settles happily again, warm against his chest.

Mr. Kim clears his throat and puts his chopsticks to the side, and Daehyun gets ready to be scolded, or told off, or told at least to remove himself from this wonderful house.

Instead, the man says, “Since you survived the trial run, do you still want this position?”

.


	4. Chapter 4

“So, that was it?” Youngjae asks him as the waiter takes away their menus. Not that they had really needed them. This Thai restaurant has been their go-to sit-down dinner place since their first year of college together. Daehyun knows Youngjae’s order and Youngjae knows Daehyun's. The only changes occurred when they decided to start sampling all the different cocktails available with the full bar.

“Yeah,” Daehyun says, taking a sip of his water. “That was it. I said yes. We settled on a schedule, and Mr. Kim -- Himchan -- gave me a copy of the keys. I start next Monday.”

That wasn’t quite it. There are a few things about the arrangement Daehyun hasn’t shared with Youngjae yet.

Like how Himchan had seemed like he was desperate and trying to hide it. Behind the cool veneer was a father who didn’t know quite what to do with his sons. Jongup presented as relatively well-adjusted but Junhong wouldn’t let Daehyun go when it was time, and from the tantrum that the youngest child threw at his leaving he suspected that Himchan would be spending a lot of minutes trying to reason with his son the way he would reason with his underlings at work, however that was. The atmosphere of the house when Himchan had entered had changed so suddenly, like being awoken from a dream. It reminded him a bit of the strict structure of high school right before college entrance exams were being taken.

Yongguk came down to hang out with the kids a bit as Himchan showed him around the house. He told him what rooms were off-limits -- Himchan’s office near the front of the house and the backroom of the third floor because it contained mostly boxes were definitely restricted territory. Himchan’s room was a gray area. “Try to stay out of it,” he said, and that was all.

He showed him the guest bedroom, too. It was next to the kids’ shared room on the second floor. “This room’s for you,” he said, throwing it over his shoulder like it was a casual sort of thing. “There will be evenings when I need to stay late at work, and I’d like to have you here with the kids, of course. I’ll do my best to give you advance warning but sometimes the nature of my work doesn’t allow that. Weekends, too. Sometimes I have to travel.”

He’d started walking away before Daehyun could really process it, but Daehyun did manage to sneak a glance into the room, which seemed to be bigger than Youngjae’s whole apartment, filled mostly by a lush, large bed with floral sheets.

A review of emergency contacts followed, in order of preference to be called, and a final conversation about Daehyun’s schedule. Basically, Himchan wanted Daehyun to pick up the kids from their summer program every weekday in the early afternoon and to stay until Himchan came home from work, which was usually around 8 or 9 in the evening. Since Daehyun would take his summer classes in the morning, he readily agreed to the schedule.

He left the house 90,000 _won_ richer for the two hours he spent there, already excited to go back and see the kids again. However, he was still trying to figure out how he felt about their father.

“I guess I’m happy for you,” Youngjae tells him. “Only, you won’t have any free time over the summer so I guess I'll say goodbye to our _Walking Dead_ marathons, too.”

“Aw,” Daehyun coos. “Will you miss me? I’ll still be around on the weekends. We can spoon at night when I come home overworked and tired. I’ll even let you be the little spoon.”

“I’m sure Eunji would love that,” Youngjae says, rolling his eyes at his friend.

“Eunji recognizes that she might be your girlfriend but that _I_ am your life partner, buddy.”

Youngjae corrects him as their drinks come to the table. “Eunji is my girlfriend but you are my mistress.” 

Daehyun’s drink fills a martini glass to the brim and has a small spiky leaf as a garnish, while Youngjae’s is clear in a long flute with something dense and rich at the bottom. Daehyun holds his glass up for Youngjae to bump his own against. “Your harsh words only make me stronger.”

“Cheers,” Youngjae bites out with a grin.

They clink glasses. The meal passes by with their easy chatter. Daehyun’s always felt this level of comfort with Youngjae, ever since their first year as roommates by lottery, when he moved into the city for school, disoriented by the rapid pace of it and adjusting slowly. Even coming out to him had been easy. Youngjae rolled with it like a swimmer taking a lazy turn in a lake. “Okay,” he’d said after a short pause, “thanks for telling me. So, anyway,” and then launched right back into whatever it was they had been talking about, making the knot of anxiety in his chest loosen considerably.

In an alternate universe, Daehyun probably would have fallen in love with Youngjae. He is kind and thoughtful but also merciless. He expects as much out of a relationship as he gives, which is just as good for Daehyun, since he’s invested a lot in his friend. 

“I guess you’re staying with me over the summer, then,” Youngjae says between bites of curry and rice, interrupting Daehyun’s reminiscing. “I mean, is it worth it at this point to find a sublet?”

“If you really don’t mind.”

“Of course not. You can take the futon in the living room. I can’t vouch for the state of your back after the next few months, but.” He shrugs. “It’s cheap and convenient. Plus you helping me with rent will take that off the list of things my parents are allowed to bother me about.”

“Thanks.” He can’t help but smile around Youngjae, and he does very little to restrain himself when he's with his friend. Besides, Youngjae can take almost anything Daehyun can dish out. “You’re the best.”

“I know,” Youngjae quips with a little bob of his head. “So, ah, how’s _your_ family?”

“They’re okay,” Daehyun says automatically. Because they are. He looks down at his noodles and they suddenly don’t seem very appealing anymore.

“Are you going back at all over the summer?”

“Not sure yet,” he says.

Youngjae sighs, tapping his spoon against his plate. “Okay.”

“They’re fine,” Daehyun assures him. “Everything’s fine.”

Almost a minute passes in near-silence, the conversations from other diners filling up the space between them. The alcohol in his drink is starting to hit his nerves, making his cheeks hot. Daehyun isn’t very good at holding his alcohol. It makes him emotional. He pushes his drink a bit away from him on the table.

“You don’t like it?” Youngjae asks.

Daehyun shakes his head.

“Hey -- sorry,” Youngjae says, frowning. “Let’s talk about something else. When are we gonna do that dinner party you’re always talking about? You said you wanted to do one before the end of the year…”

Daehyun picks up the line Youngjae throws him and follows it to something they can laugh about, and silently he thanks Youngjae for letting him ignore the thoughts clouding the back of his mind for one more night.

.


	5. Chapter 5

“Hyung! Hyung, hyung, hyung!” Junhong’s shrill voice cuts through the small crowd of children waiting to be released from their classroom, and some of the mothers surrounding Daehyun titter at the cute display. Daehyun can feel the back of his neck heating up as he holds out a hand and Junhong latches onto it like a magnet, his little backpack bouncing against his bum as he skips alongside him. On Daehyun’s other side, Jongup walks with a little shuffle in his step like he’s listening to some music no one else can hear.

The babysitter bows to Junhong’s teacher and the mothers and waves goodbye to a few of the other kids who are saying goodbye to Junhong before finally breaking away from the bustle of the brothers’ summer program dismissal time. The program itself is housed in an elementary school, and as they walk the halls to the entrance Daehyun asks after their days.

He’d been worried they would be shy with him again after a week of no contact, but his worry had been totally unfounded. It’s like he was just with them yesterday.

“And then we had story time! Ms. Hong read us a story about a tiger in the forest. He was tryna perteck -- perteck --”

“Protect,” Daehyun supplies for him.

“Yeah, that. That for his forest and family because big mean hunters came.” Junhong looks up at Daehyun the entire time he’s talking to him, tripping over his own feet so that Daehyun has to keep a good grip on his little hand.

“Did you finish the story?”

“Yeah,” Jongup says, “What happens then?”

Junhong shrugs. “I dunno. We didn’t finish yet. Ms. Heo said if we’re good we’ll finish tomorrow.”

“Seems like you had fun. What did you do today, Jonguppie?”

The school is right in the middle of the city, but the entrance opens up into a small courtyard before meeting the pedestrian sidewalk and the road. Daehyun timed the walk from the school to Himchan’s house, and with a slightly slow pace, it should only take fifteen minutes or so to get home. They make a bright group: Daehyun in a sleeveless shirt and jean shorts and his snapback, his own backpack over his shoulders, with two little kids hanging off either side of him dressed in matching striped t-shirts and cargo shorts.

“We did math,” Jongup says, making a face that brings a smile to Daehyun’s lips. “But it was okay because Mr. Lee made it a game. I won a race in recess!”

“Oh,” Daehyun says appreciatively, “you must be fast.”

“I’m faster!” Junhong teases his brother. “I’m taller so I’m faster.”

“Nu-uh!” Jongup protests.

“Race you.” Junhong challenges him, his hand slipping from Daehyun’s grasp. “To the end, over there!”

Before Daehyun can call out his name Junhong is dashing away from him, Jongup quick on his heels. His heart lurches to his throat in panic and he gives chase, but the boys are shrieking and laughing and just as Daehyun is about to scold them, to order them to stop, they reach the end of the block and slow.

Jongup crashes into his brother and they flail in a mess of limbs, spinning and laughing until Daehyun reaches them.

“Hyung is slow!” Junhong says breathlessly, looking up at Daehyun with shining eyes.

Daehyun sputters, hands on his hips.

“Hyung is slower than Daddy,” Jongup adds with a giggle.

“Excuse me,” Daehyun begins, “but I didn’t know I was part of this race.” He’s grinning, though, which takes the bite out of his words. He holds his hands out again and the boys take one of each, breaths returning to normal. “If we were _really_ racing, I would definitely be faster than Daddy,” he says.

.

Daehyun finds it relatively easy to establish a routine with the kids over the next couple of days. They hadn’t had much of one before he came along, but adjust to it quickly. After summer program, they walk home, settle in, and settle down for a movie and a nap since it’s the early afternoon. Both of the boys are partial to _Frozen_ so Daehyun knows almost all of the dialogue of the movie now by heart. He keeps the movie rolling through the credits even if they've fallen asleep on the couch in the living room, because the background noise is comforting.

He then has a good hour to himself to catch up on coursework or his own life. Often, the hour is spent exchanging messages with Youngjae about how cute the kids are and how Youngjae thinks he shouldn’t get too attached to them so quickly.

After they wake up, the rest of the afternoon is spent playing or reading or coloring. Sometimes if the weather is a bit overcast so as not to be too hot, he’ll slather sunscreen on them all and take them to the park to play. At around seven in the evening, he starts fixing up dinner.

It wasn’t something he was asked to do, but after the first night it just became a part of the routine, and he figured it wasn’t hurting anyone. Himchan had given him free reign of the house aside from the rooms he'd mentioned were off-limits, and the kitchen was definitely part of that reign.

The boys' father didn’t come home until late in the evening, and Daehyun was sure by then Junhong and Jongup would have passed out from hunger, so he prepared a simple stir-fry from what he found in the refrigerator, prepared rice, and put together a thin kimchi soup. There were leftovers after the boys ate, so when Himchan returned, he’d come home to an extra serving for him on the table. At that point Daehyun was getting the brothers ready for bed, and when he heard Himchan enter, he’d wrestled Junhong into his pajamas before letting the kids go greet their father.

Himchan was sitting at the table, looking down at the food with a perplexed stare. Daehyun bit his bottom lip.

“It’s not much,” Daehyun said. “It would have been better with some chicken or beef, I think, but I couldn't find any in the fridge.”

“It’s fine,” Himchan said, taking his chopsticks in hand.

Jongup and Junhong danced around his legs, excited to see their father.

“I told them when you were finished eating, you’d read them the story we started so they could get to bed.”

Junhong pressed the thin, large book into his father’s lap. “This one!”

Himchan turned to his son, that perplexed stare turning into something soft and fond that made Daehyun’s heart flutter around in his chest. He coughed, embarrassed. Not that Himchan noticed.

Himchan ran his long fingers through Junhong’s hair and said, “Okay. When I’m done. Will you bring them upstairs while I finish up here?”

Junhong shouted happily and dashed for the stairs, and Jongup took Daehyun’s hand to run up with him. Daehyun hoped Himchan wouldn’t take too long.

The next day, there was a package of chicken breast in the fridge, and stuck to the outside of the humming machine was a notepad with the message: _Write down whatever you need here. I’ll provide. --Himchan_.

And so the routine was set.

He spends half of his days with Jongup and Junhong and half of his days with Youngjae or in class. But the part of his day he starts to look forward to the most is that little sliver of time he gets with Himchan, intrigued by this man who seems to be trying so hard to keep his distance.

.

 


	6. Chapter 6

“It’s been like two weeks,” Youngjae says with a disapproving curl in his lips. “You’re already giving them presents?”

“Junhongie wants a snapback,” Daehyun says in return, weighing the two caps -- one is black with a red underside and the other dark blue with white polka dots -- in his hands. They’re in the children’s section of a big chain store and Youngjae has just purchased a couple of new shirts he’d been eyeing that are now safely in a small shopping bag at his side. “He said he wanted one like mine.”

Youngjae says, “You’ll spoil them,” now frowning up at Daehyun’s pink snapback backwards on his head.

“I won’t. It’s just a hat.”

“You really like them, don’t you?” Youngjae says, sighing when Daehyun finally decides to buy them both, one for Junhong and one for Jongup.

Daehyun starts winding his way back to the register, and Youngjae follows on his heels. “They’re just really sweet, and I, like, worry about them sometimes because their dad seems nice and all but you should see the way he freezes up around them. Like, Junhong needs a lot of attention and Himchan is so busy all the time -- I just think about it--”

They reach the registers and Youngjae says, “God, listen to yourself,” just as the girl behind the counter greets them. Her eyes widen at the phrase and the ensuing tension, but she takes Daehyun’s chosen snapbacks quickly to process them. “They’re not your kids.”

“That doesn’t matter--”

“Actually,” Youngjae says, his tone light but emphasizing his seriousness. “It does. You’re just there for the summer; are you going to see them again after this is over? You told me their mother wasn’t in the picture. So, what, are you going to take her place for a couple of months? And then what?”

“That’ll be $25.98,” the clerk says, nervous.

Daehyun pays her, seething in silence. Part of him acknowledges the truth in Youngjae’s words, but most of him wants to rally against it. He just wants to be there for the kids. He just wants them to know they are special and loved. He takes the bag from the clerk and turns, walking out of the store as Youngjae works something out in his head.

“Hey.” Youngjae takes him by the elbow when they’re outside the double doors, and Daehyun lets him move them to the edge of the building, away from the flow of traffic. “I’m not trying to be a dick,” he says with a self-deprecating grin. “I just know how easily attached you get to things, to people, and how hard it hurts when...something happens and you can’t do anything about it.”

Youngjae is good for him. He’s the anchor to his ship drifting at sea. He can take a situation that’s giving Daehyun grief and turn it on its head so quickly Daehyun wonders how it had ever been an issue in the first place. And now, he knows, Youngjae is also right. He _does_ get attached quickly. One nice word from Youngjae on the first day of college and they were inseparable (Actually, it was more like: Youngjae allowed Daehyun’s company and got used to it within a couple of weeks). There was a kid in his assistant teacher rotation he slipped extra help after school because he was quiet and small. Puppies and kittens in various pet shop windows stay in his mind and appear in recurring dreams.

And he knows he can come on a little strong.

“Maybe I should tone it down,” he mumbles, eyes downcast toward the small shopping back in his hands.

“Just be mindful,” Youngjae suggests. “It’s a job, like when you’re teaching. Don’t make it too personal?”

Daehyun accepts the arm of camaraderie thrown around his shoulders and shuffles a bit closer to Youngjae’s side. “You’re right,” he says with a sniff, but he doesn’t return the gifts.

.

“Ta-dah!” Daehyun says with a theatrical spin, bringing the two snapbacks out of his book bag with a flourish and fitting the blue one on Junhong’s head and the black one on Jongup’s. He swivels the one on his own head back around so that the bill is over his forehead and swipes his fair from his face. “Lookin’ cool, brothers.”

Junhong yanks the hat from his head to look at it properly, shrieks once happily, and then stuffs it back on. “Hyung! It’s like yours!”

Jongup says, “Is this for us?”

“Yep,” Daehyun says. They walk down the sidewalk, hand in hand in hand, arms swinging. “For good behavior and being cute and all that. Do you like them?”

Junhong nods, squeezing Daehyun’s hand hard and trying to skip ahead before remembering he’s attached to two other people. “Thanks, hyung.”

“This way, the sun isn’t in my eyes,” Jongup says. His smile when he turns his face up to meet Daehyun’s is bright.

“Okay,” Daehyun says, acknowledging Jongup’s statement as he is wont to do, now that he’s accustomed to the kid’s little nuggets of strange wisdom and insight.

They make a game of counting the polka dots on Junhong’s hat and then of the number of red cars they pass in the street, but the kids have trouble keeping their numbers straight past fifteen, so they stop and Junhong starts making faces in the windows instead. He accidentally sticks his tongue out at a young woman who is just trying to eat her sandwich at a bench in a coffee shop, and she acts scandalized for a moment until Junhong dashes behind Daehyun’s legs, mumbling apologies as the oldest of them bows. She waves them off with a little bow and smile herself, and after that their walk is uneventful.

The brothers wrangle Daehyun onto the couch when they get home, crawling into his lap as the opening scene for _Frozen_ comes onto their big flatscreen. Some time later, Daehyun wakes up with a stiff neck, just as Elsa’s castle crashes down around her in the movie, to find that Jongup and Junhong have both fallen asleep and that his legs are numb. Gingerly, he moves out from underneath them, shakes out his legs, and rearranges the boys onto either end of the couch. He takes off their snapbacks and puts them on the coffee table, smoothing their hair down in the process.

Then, he lowers the volume on the movie. He knows better than to turn it off.

Today Himchan will be home earlier, so Daehyun will have to forego his normal ‘personal’ time catching up on coursework (read: losing time on his phone playing games) during the boys’ nap to prepare dinner. Jongup wrinkles his nose in sleep and mumbles something unintelligible as Daehyun throws the small blanket they usually keep over the back of the couch over their little bodies.

Keep it professional, Youngjae said, but Daehyun can’t help leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to Jongup’s forehead and then to Junhong’s, knees creaking a bit when he straightens and heads into the kitchen.

Jongup’s been fantasizing about Japanese-style hamburger steak recently, so Daehyun wrote the ingredients they were missing on the refrigerator door. When he goes to open it, he finds a small pack of ground beef and of ground pork, an onion, and a bottle of _tonkatsu_ sauce that hasn’t been opened yet. Chuckling a bit at the way the items are laid out neatly on an otherwise bare shelf, he takes everything the recipe requires out and gets to work, setting the rice to cook first.

The hamburger steaks are more like oversized pan-fried meatballs than anything else, and are relatively easy to make. What he is more worried about is whether the boys will eat the steamed vegetables accompanying them. Maybe he’ll add potatoes into the mix. Everyone loves potatoes.

As he is cooking, he finds himself humming along to the song playing in the movie, getting into the groove of it and adding spices to the mixing bowl with flare. “Can’t hold it back anymore!” he sings out loud, sashaying over to the refrigerator again to take out some eggs to bind the ground meat together.

He knows this kitchen better than his own. Part of the reason might be that his kitchen is a figment of his imagination at this current time, since it’s really _Youngjae’s_ kitchen, but that doesn’t change how comfortable he has grown standing at the stove or chopping vegetables at the counter. Plus, Himchan’s kitchen is _beautiful_.

“ _Let it go_ ,” he sings under his breath. The song is over but it remains in his head as he plates everything he’s cooked, preparing a little dish for the _tonkatsu_ sauce as well. He takes the plate of vegetables and the sauce dish and turns around to set them onto the table and--

“ _Oh my god,_ ” he gasps, lungs seizing at being caught unawares by a man in the room with him. His hand shakes, and he takes a quick step back, and a couple of vegetables splat onto the floor.

Himchan reaches out to take the plate from him, one eyebrow raised. “Sorry,” the older man says, putting the plate on the table. “I’m home.”

“Yeah,” Daehyun exhales. “Yeah, ah, you surprised me. Sorry -- let me get that!”

He quickly puts the sauce dish onto the table and then kneels to pick the vegetables off the ground, only to find Himchan is already doing so.

“I got this,” Himchan says. “You keep doing what you were doing.”

Daehyun kneels anyway, reaching forward, words already falling from his mouth. “No -- it’s fine. I got this. You should settle in, or whatever it is you need to do. It’s nothing--”

Himchan’s fingers still on his wrist and it makes everything stop like Daehyun is a robot he’s powered down. Daehyun dares to meet his eyes, and they are kind and amused and slanted at the corners from his smile. His heart flips in his chest like a fish out of water.

He’s never seen Himchan smile before.

“I said it’s fine,” Himchan murmurs. “Jeez, it’s like you think I can’t get my knees dirty. Just finish setting the table. It smells delicious. I’ll wake the boys up.”

His fingers leave Daehyun’s wrist but a blush crawls up onto his cheeks when Himchan’s not looking. Himchan picks up the vegetables diligently, head bowed, and Daehyun is struck suddenly by the image.

“Thank you,” he manages, standing again.

Himchan says, “No, I should be thanking _you_. You’ve changed my life.” He brushes past him to throw out the vegetables and then leaves the kitchen, his silhouette strong and sharp in his slacks and collared shirt.

Daehyun watches him gently shake the boys awake from their nap, whispering into their ears as they rouse and kissing their foreheads where Daehyun had kissed them.

.


	7. Chapter 7

“And you’re okay? You’ve got enough?” His father’s voice crackles through the speakers, distant.

“More than enough,” Daehyun assures him. “I’ve got a great little job for the summer and classes are going well, like I said.”

His father sighs. “You seem so busy. Always rushing around. I thought maybe you wouldn’t have enough time to eat.” He laughs, and it brings a smile to Daehyun’s face. He misses his father; he misses his family, and sometimes he wishes he had gone home for the summer, after all. “Your hyung said not to worry about that -- you’d definitely make time to eat!”

“I’m practicing my cooking.” Daehyun taps his fingers against the surface of the table in the kitchen. Across the way, Jongup and Junhong are curled up on the couch under a thin blanket, napping cozily. Both had barely made it fifteen minutes into the movie this afternoon before passing out, and Daehyun wonders if they had an especially busy time at their summer program. “When I come home, I’ll try out a new dish with you guys! Might even be better than Mom’s.”

“No way,” his dad teases. He imagines the crinkle of his eyes as he says so, like Daehyun is six years old again and claiming he will swim across the ocean to Japan after just his first lesson in the water.

“You never know,” he says softly. A deep breath. He watches the dust motes trickle through a beam of light in the living room. Inhale, exhale. “How’s she doing?”

“Oh,” his dad starts, “You know. She’s alright. Taking her vitamins. You want to talk to her?” Before Daehyun can respond, he hears his father calling for his mother. He waits a few pregnant moments, heart beating high in his throat, before his dad says, “Ah, she says her head hurts and she’s going to rest for a bit now. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Daehyun says readily. “It’s okay.”

In the living room, Jongup shifts under his blanket. He tosses his body into the cushions and buries his face into a pillow, clutching it tightly. Daehyun stands, padding over to the couch as his dad says, “I’m sorry. She’s really just got a headache. Been complaining about it all day, really. She’ll give you a call later, okay?”

“It’s fine, dad,” Daehyun whispers into the receiver. “I should go, anyway.”

“She’ll give you a call later,” he repeats as a promise.

“I have to go. One of the kids is waking up. Love you.”

His father sighs again. “Love you, too.”

He hangs up and stuffs his phone into the back pocket of his shorts. On the couch, Jongup turns again, awake, eyes wet and nose runny. Daehyun reaches him just in time to slide onto the couch sitting next to his little body as his arms stretch out to him seeking comfort.

“Jonguppie,” Daehyun coos, letting the boy bury his face in his thigh and wrap his short arms around his waist. He runs his fingers through Jongup’s damp hair. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

Jongup sniffles. He shifts up higher until he is mostly in Daehyun’s lap, tears wetting the fabric of Daehyun’s shirt over his stomach. “ _Dreamed of Mommy,_ ” he mumbles.

His fingers freeze in Jongup’s hair. Himchan hasn’t said anything about a partner or a significant other or the boys’ mother, and Daehyun felt it was improper to pry. If Himchan didn’t want to talk about it then Himchan didn’t want to talk about it. He’d assumed the man was recently divorced and then gained custody of the kids, but something about Jongup’s tears is beginning to make him think differently.

“Uppie,” he whispers, resuming the careful rhythmic petting of Jongup’s hair, “What about Mommy?”

Jongup shakes his head, rubbing his nose into Daehyun’s stomach and spreading the wetness on his shirt.

“It’s okay,” Daehyun says again. He scoops Jongup up from under his armpits so that he can sit in Daehyun’s lap and bury his face into his neck instead. Jongup clings like a koala, crying quietly. “It’s okay, shh, it’s okay.”

The sniffling calms as Daehyun rubs his hand over Jongup’s back, and after a couple of minutes, the boy sits back, fists pressed to his eyes. When he lowers his hands, he’s stopped crying, but his face is blotchy and eyes red-rimmed. Daehyun frowns in sympathy, thumbs brushing gently under his eyes to wipe away the lingering tears there. “Do you want to color? Or read a story?”

“Color,” Jongup whispers, glancing at a still-sleeping Junhong.

“How about we go get your crayons together, hm?”

Jongup nods, sliding off Daehyun’s lap and the couch and immediately taking his hand when they are standing. They go get paper and crayons from the play room and Daehyun sets him up at the kitchen table so that he can keep a closer eye on him as he’s preparing their meal. Eventually, Junhong wakes up, too, and instead of clamoring to go out to the park, Junhong seems to sense the somber mood and joins his brother at the table to color.

He prepares Italian-inspired pasta (“inspired” because he’s fairly certain _kimchi_ and Spam aren’t in the regular Italian diet) to the boys’ simple conversation, feeling the heavy air dissipate when Junhong giggles at something Jongup has drawn. A quick glance back at the pair at the table pulls at his heartstrings, and a wave of protectiveness washes over him, the warm gold light from the afternoon sun casting a glow about the living room.

As he is finishing up, Junhong hops off his chair with a drawing, eager to show Daehyun. Jongup joins, just as enthusiastic but shy, and then Junhong tugs on the leg of Daehyun’s shorts.

“Hyung,” he says. “Look.”

Daehyun turns the burner off and moves the pan filled with quickly stir-fried spaghetti from the hot plate. He wipes his hands off on his shirt and beams at Junhong. “That’s a nice picture you got there,” he tells him.

Junhong beams right back, shoving the paper with a crude family portrait on it higher into the air. “It’s our family!” he announces.

Daehyun keeps the smile on his face and takes in the box-like house with four stick figures standing to the left of it. Two are smaller than the others -- Jongup and Junhong. For Himchan, their father, they’ve drawn a stick figure with a triangle on top of his head. Daehyun figures that shape is supposed to represent Himchan’s hair, which is always perfectly coiffed. Between Himchan and one of the boys is another figure wearing a simple baseball cap.

“Who’s this?” he asks, pointing at the fourth figure.

“That’s you!” Junhong says with an affronted expression, like he’s offended Daehyun couldn’t figure that out for himself. “See? You’re wearing your hat!” He points, too, emphasizing the snapback, looking back and forth between Daehyun and the drawing as though to confirm. He nods, satisfied. “It’s hyung.”

Jongup says, “I drew the hat.”

“It’s wonderful,” Daehyun tells them both truthfully, feeling an increasingly-familiar warm bubble rise up in his chest.

“And look,” Junhong continues, pointing this time to a figure above the house. This one is sideways, laying on a cloud, with long hair. “Jongup drew Mommy.”

Daehyun had suspected, but now he’s certain. He swallows, keeping the smile on his face and lowering to a kneel. “She’s beautiful,” he says. “She’s watching over you.”

“Daddy said she is,” Junhong says. Jongup shuffles beside him. “Put this up,” Junhong demands, sticking the paper against the refrigerator. Daehyun quickly moves one of the magnets at the top to the paper to hold it there when he lets go.

“It’s very nice.”

“Do you think Daddy will like it?” Junhong asks next, staring at Daehyun with huge eyes.

“He’ll love it,” he says, though he can’t be sure.

.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've come to terms with the fact that all the chapters will be hella short i'm sorry OTL

The drawing stays on the fridge, and Himchan gives no indication either way if he’s seen it or if he likes it or if he has a problem with it. He still provides everything Daehyun writes on the little notepad above the drawing, though, so Daehyun thinks he must have at least glanced at it. Perhaps since it hasn’t been taken down, Himchan is granting some passive approval.

A week goes by relatively peacefully. Daehyun writes a paper for a class and takes care of the kids and exchanges brief conversation with his father and with their father, usually about the weather or how long the kids’ naps were that afternoon. Gradually, their conversations begin to take on more body, meandering into more personal subjects like how they've spent their days, how classes and work are going, stories about their pasts, family, though Daehyun doesn't touch the topic of the boys' mother.

He gleans little bits of information from Himchan like he’s collecting pieces for a jigsaw puzzle without knowing the final result. Himchan is rather fond of coffee and his suits. He works incessantly. His best friend is Bang Yongguk. He has two older sisters who both live abroad. He dislikes summer because he sweats a lot. His smile is like a shark’s, sharp and inviting, even despite -- or perhaps because of -- his two large front teeth. He used to smoke; he used to play piano and guitar; he used to do a lot of things.

“Why’d you stop?” Daehyun asks him once as he is setting the table. There is something jazzy playing in the background from Himchan’s television. He’d turned it on as soon as he walked in, sprawling in the armchair and loosening his tie. His fingers flick open the top button of his collared shirt as sweat glistens at his temples. The boys are in the play room, and everyone is oblivious to the way Daehyun’s breath skips at the image Himchan presents.

“Got busy,” Himchan says with a wave of his hand, eyes closed. “Work picked up. Had the kids. And then, after -- it’s hard to get back into, anyway. And it’s kind of boring to play alone.”

In the warm afternoon glow of the sun, the long column of Himchan’s throat is a series of dips and rises, shadows and light. Daehyun can see the tiny hairs illuminated there over the curve of his Adam’s apple. Himchan swallows and Daehyun’s eyes follow the movement.

“I played guitar for a while,” Daehyun says. “And piano. I’m not very good. I can play with sheet music but that’s about it.”

Himchan’s eyes open to slits and his lips curl up at one corner in pleased surprise. “You were probably one of those kids in high school who serenaded girls at lunch tables to ask them to the dance,” he says, sitting up. He stands, the leather of the armchair creaking, his joints mimicking the sound before he strides over to Daehyun at the table to help him.

“It wasn’t girls I was serenading,” Daehyun mumbles. The plate in his hand goes down onto the wooden surface harder than he’d intended, and Himchan’s hand pauses over his for a single breath.

Their eyes meet. Daehyun feels himself flush and looks away first, straightening the dishes. Dinner tonight is a simple stir-fry and a warm soup served with rice. Himchan clears his throat after a silence long enough to be awkward and says, “But I was right, wasn’t I? You carried your guitar around school to play for -- boys, girls, whatever.”

“I did not,” Daehyun protests, looking up to meet Himchan’s satisfied smirk. Warmth blooms across his skin again for an entirely different reason.

“Anyway,” Himchan says, relaxed and easy, one hand on the back of a chair to prop himself up. Daehyun remembers suddenly their first meeting, just weeks ago, and how Himchan had seemed cool and aloof and severe. How wrong he was. “I’m going to need to travel next weekend -- just Friday through Sunday morning. Face time with a client in Tokyo. The kids seem to like you, thank god, so I’m entrusting them to you that weekend.”

It takes a moment for Daehyun to realize Himchan is teasing him, which does all sorts of funny things to his tummy. It takes an even longer moment for Daehyun to realize Himchan is waiting for him to respond. The older man's expression is amused, lines at the outer corners of his eyes from a smile that’s pinching his lips together as Daehyun answers excitedly.

“Oh! Yes! I can work that weekend. I’ll just pick them up from program on Friday, right? And stay over. It’ll be fun.”

Himchan tilts his head at him, eyes narrowed but still smiling. “Fun,” he repeats, considering the word on his tongue. “Really?”

As if on cue, there comes a high, wailing scream from the play room, gradually growing louder and accompanied by the thud of socked feet against hardwood floors as the owner of the scream runs down the short hall and into the kitchen. Junhong emerges, hair disheveled and face red, making a beeline for Daehyun, who braces for impact. The boy collides into Daehyun’s knees.

“What happened?” Daehyun asks, alarmed.

“I want to play with it!” Junhong cries. “Hyung played with it now it’s my turn I want to play with it!”

“Fun,” he thinks he hears Himchan mutter again with a shake of his head. “I’ll get Jongup. We can talk more about the weekend, later.”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wonder if daehyun will survive


	9. Chapter 9

On Thursday evening before Daehyun leaves their residence and before the family sits down for dinner, Himchan shows him the guest bedroom again, reminds him of their emergency numbers, gives him Yongguk’s number just in case, and shows him the contents of his half-stocked fridge as Junhong and Jongup trail at their heels, bickering between themselves or adding cute commentary to the tour.

He also folds a couple of large bills, the sum of which could probably provide Daehyun food for a good two weeks, into his hand, and tells him the money is for outings. “You might be able to get them to sit through a movie at the actual theater,” Himchan says with some doubt. “Or maybe go shopping?”

“I’ll figure something out,” Daehyun reassures him. “What’s their night time routine?”

This question seems to catch Himchan off-guard, and it takes a moment for him to answer. Junhong and Jongup run back into the play room, relishing the extra time they have to continue their previously interrupted game of Spy. “Routine? After dinner they can watch TV or -- something quiet. Then they wash up. Bed time is nine o’clock.” He pauses like he’s unsure if he wants to continue. “Sometimes it takes a while to get them to settle down,” he admits.

Doesn’t seem too bad, Daehyun thinks. He can handle it.

.

He can’t handle it.

It’s Friday evening and their afternoon has passed by in the usual fashion -- nap time, play time, dinner time -- but when Himchan didn’t return for the evening and the boys remembered he _wouldn’t_ be returning for the next couple of evenings, the night slowly unraveled out of control.

Daehyun’s not sure when bath time turned into a game of hide and seek with two naked little boys running around getting soap all over the halls, slipping and nearly braining themselves on the banisters of the stairs. The water is still running in the bathroom, but at least he thinks he’s found Junhong, judging by the trail of water and soap he’s following into the guest bedroom. His own shirt is all wet down his front, sticking unpleasantly to his skin, and his pajama bottoms are heavy on his hips, soaked.

“Junhong,” he calls out softly. “Junhongie, it’s time to get back into the bath tub.”

A moment of silence. Then Junhong’s giggle gives away his location -- he’s under the bed -- and he rolls out from underneath it, covered in lint. Daehyun sighs, tries to extinguish his exasperation, and quickly snatches him up from underneath his armpits. Junhong shrieks and laughs, trying to be a limp noodle to slip out of Daehyun’s grasp, but Daehyun holds strong and marches them both back over to the bathroom, dumping him into the tub basin and taking hold of the shower head again.

“I caught you,” Daehyun says. “In the rules, that means I brought you to jail, which means you have to stay until I release you.”

“I break out!” Junhong cries out, laughing, making a sudden move to leap out of the tub. Daehyun panics, his head suddenly filled with the image of Junhong with a cracked skull bleeding out over the tiled floors, and rushes to block him, or catch him -- anything -- and pain blossoms at his temple, stunning him, because somehow Junhong’s foot had slipped on his way out, and they’d collapsed together on the wet tiles with the older cushioning the younger’s fall.

Jongup appears from behind the door frame, staring.

Daehyun clenches his teeth hard, holding back a string of curses he wants to let out from his lips, as Junhong stands, eyes huge, black hair in cow licks all over his head.

“Sorry,” the little boy whispers.

“Ow,” Daehyun can’t help but squeak, which makes Junhong hang his head and Jongup step into the bathroom to investigate.

“Hyung! Sorry! Don’t cry, hyung!”

“I’m not crying,” Daehyun says, even as he wipes at the involuntary tears that formed in his eyes from the sudden pain, sitting up gingerly. His head throbs a little now from meeting the tiles with his skull but that seems to be the extent of it. “But thank you for apologizing.”

“I can kiss it and make it better,” Junhong offers.

“Okay.” Daehyun tilts his head a bit and Junhong balances himself and leans to plant a kiss in his hair, smacking his lips for efficacy. When he pulls back, he’s smiling shyly. “That helped a little,” Daehyun says. “But you know what would be great? If we could finish you and Jonguppie’s bath time.”

Jongup climbs back into the basin without a word, and his brother follows carefully. Daehyun breathes in deeply, exhales out smoothly, and takes up the shower head in hand.

“After this,” he says, “we brush your teeth.”

.

Brushing their teeth doesn’t take nearly as long as bath time did, especially after Daehyun decides simply to brush his teeth with them and make a staring contest out of it in the mirror with each other.

The boys share a room but sleep in separate beds, so Jongup climbs into Junhong’s with them to hear Daehyun read a short bedtime story, then climbs back into his own as Daehyun tucks them in. It’s a short period of relief following a hectic couple of hours.

He leaves them a night light and doesn’t close the door all the way, and tackles the task of cleaning up from the events day.

There are the dishes in the sink from dinner he washes and sets to dry, the toys in the living room that never made it back into their bins in the play room he puts away, the trails of water from bath time he mops up with a rag from the linen closet. He thinks about breakfast and decides they will make do with fried eggs, toast, and orange juice, and then he wonders if they’ll make it to the aquarium tomorrow like he planned.

By the time he makes it to his own shower in the guest bedroom, his shirt is dry and his pajama bottoms are getting there, and his arms ache and his feet feel heavy. He washes up and all but collapses into bed, sinking into the feathery soft duvet and mattress, hair still damp.

His phone buzzes on the nightstand. Groaning, Daehyun gropes for it, then rolls over with some effort to check his messages. Over the span of three hours, Youngjae has sent:

_yj: how are the little devils?_

_yj: hard work huh_

_yj: okay i guess you’re busy_

_yj: i’m boooooored i hope you’re still alive_

_yj: answer me! answer! me!_

Daehyun laughs softly to himself and replies.

_dh: little stalker, i’m going to bed now. good night. chu~_

A moment later, his phone vibrates again.

_yj: stalker?! you wish. good night._

Daehyun rolls back onto his front, thinking that will be the end of it, prepared to go drift off into sleep, but another messages comes in quickly.

_himchan: how did it go?_

He reads it over three times, not quite comprehending that Himchan is texting him.

_dh: it was great. they gave me a bit of a run around but they settled down quick enough. they’re in bed now._

_himchan: good job :)_

Daehyun blinks at the smiley face. It doesn’t seem like Himchan at all to send, but then he thinks of Himchan, a couple of hours away by plane in a different city in a fancy hotel room lying in bed texting him, smiling softly for real -- and plants his face into the pillow underneath him to muffle his embarrassing squeal.

_himchan: let’s vidchat tomorrow morning. my meeting is a lunch meeting, so i have time. just call when the boys are up._

_dh: sounds good to me!_

_himchan: what are your plans tomorrow?_

_dh: i was thinking of bringing them to the aquarium...what do you think?_

_himchan: they’ll like that :)_

He wants to say more. He wants to ask how Himchan’s day went, away from his family. He wants to ask him what Tokyo’s like. His fingers, though, won’t cooperate, so he rolls over again onto his back and plugs his phone into his charger and waits.

_himchan: well good night daehyun. thanks again._

_dh: good night!_

Did he send that message too quickly? Should he have sent a smiley face, too? “Don’t be ridiculous,” he tells himself as he settles under the covers, forcefully closing this eyes. “It’s just a stupid crush.”

.


	10. Chapter 10

Some time around three in the morning, Daehyun wakes groggily to the sound of the guest bedroom’s door creaking open, and then the mattress dips and Jongup is whispering, “Hyung, are you awake?”

He hears Junhong come up on his other side, struggling to scale the tall bed. “Shh,” Junhong huffs, and the springs creak when he makes it onto the mattress. “Hyung’s sleeping.”

“I’m not sleeping,” Daehyun mumbles. He will open his eyes in a moment but not quite yet. He’d been having a very nice dream. Something about a beach, cool waves and warm sand. Digging for crabs. A bright, hot sun. Himchan might have made an appearance. “What’re you guys doin’?”

“Hyung’s room is nicer,” Junhong announces. He tries to burrow into the space between Daehyun’s side and the sheets but gets an elbow in his face for his troubles. Daehyun shifts, apologizing, rolling onto his back and kicking the thin blanket down to his shins. He lifts both arms and immediately the two boys squirm to be tucked underneath them, one under each.

“It’ll get too hot,” Daehyun warns, but tightens his arms anyway.

Jongup snuggles closer, his breath starting to tickle Daehyun’s skin. “When’s Daddy coming back?” he whispers.

“Sunday.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you _sure_ sure?”

Daehyun wakes up. On his other side, Junhong has stopped breathing, waiting for his answer. When he raises himself up a bit to look at the boys, their eyes are huge and bright in the dim silver light of the moon slipping in through a crack in the curtains. “ _Yes_ ,” he says again, voice coming out in a rasp. “Of course he is. In fact, it was going to be a surprise, but he misses you guys and wants to video chat tomorrow morning, too.”

“Whassa a video chat?” Junhong scrunches his nose at the word.

“He wants to talk on the camera,” Daehyun explains. “It’s very cool.”

“When tomorrow morning?” Jongup asks excitedly.

“When you guys wake up.” Daehyun pauses, thinking strategically. “After you wash up and get ready and dressed,” he adds.

Jongup flings his arm over Daehyun’s chest and makes a muffled noise of glee against the older boy’s armpit. Daehyun sighs, letting his body sink back into the mattress under the heat and weight of the brothers. He will need to tell Himchan about this. A weekend trip has his boys thinking Himchan won’t be returning, and that’s...concerning, to say the least. He wonders if Himchan really travels that often. If he ever brings the boys with him. Do they fly first class? First class sounds nice. Daehyun could probably curl up in those big comfy seats and have a nice, long nap...

He’s nearly fallen asleep again when Junhong pipes up. “Hyung, are you staying with us?”

“Until your dad gets back, yeah.”

“No, after.”

“What?”

“Is this your room?” Junhong asks.

“This isn’t hyung’s room,” Jongup says. “It doesn’t have any of hyung’s things!”

“That’s because hyung didn’t move yet!” Junhong protests, squishing Daehyun’s ribs as he rolls halfway over him to be closer to his brother.

“Guys, this is the guest room,” Daehyun wheezes. “It’s for guests. Like a hotel. I sleep here when I stay over. I’m your babysitter, so sometimes I might need to stay over. But someday, you might have another babysitter, or your dad’s friend might visit, or _your_ friend might visit, and they would get to sleep in this room, too.”

“With hyung!?” Junhong yelps, looking far too scandalized for a five year old.

Daehyun shrugs. “Well, I probably wouldn’t be here.”

Junhong wraps little octopus arms around Daehyun’s waist and glues himself to his side, pouting fantastically. “I want this to be hyung’s room.”

The boys don’t say anything after that, and gradually the sound of their slow gentle breathing reaches Daehyun’s ears, even as his heart dully and too loudly in his chest. Gingerly, he removes his arms from underneath each boy’s head and reaches down to pull the blanket up over all of them. He’s sure they’ll end up tangled in a mess of sheets by morning, but for now he wants to make sure they are covered so they won’t catch a chill.

He kisses each boy on the nose, whispers goodnight, and goes back to sleep.

.

It feels a bit like Daehyun blinked and morning appeared as quickly as flipping a page in a book. He tries to sit up only to find a heavy weight on his chest and that his arm is dead and feels infested by hundreds of crawling ants. Groaning quietly, he extricates himself from underneath the two boys and crawls out of bed, pulling the blanket up over their sprawled limbs when his feet hit the ground.

He can’t help but smile when he looks at them. Junhong’s mouth is hanging wide open and Jongup has a tiny smile on his face. Daehyun stretches his arms high over his head, knobs in his back popping, and starts his day.

He brushes his teeth and washes his face quickly before the boys can wake up and interrupt him, checking his phone before heading downstairs to start on making breakfast. He wants to have everything set out on the table before he even tries to wake the boys up. When he asked Himchan how they were in the mornings, Himchan had only grinned a bit sadistically and said, “Wonderful.”

Well, Daehyun is ready. He’s going to get them up and out of bed, hair and teeth brushed and bellies full before they call their dad.

At least, that’s his goal for the morning.

He realizes quickly that Junhong sleeps like a rock. Jongup is simple enough to wake, just a few taps on his rump and Jongup is blinking up at him, lips twisted in a cute frown as he rubs at his eyes. Daehyun directs him to wash up in the bathroom and Jongup goes, easy as pie.

Junhong, though.

Daehyun tries the same thing with him, but only gets the youngest of them swatting at his hand blindly in response. Then he lightly shakes him by his shoulder, whispering for him to wake. Junhong responds with an angry groan and slightly vicious slap that thankfully doesn’t reach Daehyun. Finally, Daehyun scoops him up into a sitting position and tells him he needs to wake up so they can get ready for the day, and Junhong throws his head back and yowls.

Surprised, Daehyun lets him go, and Junhong goes _thump_ back onto the bed, immediately rolling himself into a cocoon in the blanket.

Jongup returns then, his shirt almost completely wet down his front but his breath minty and his face fresh, so Daehyun counts that as a victory. “He’ll wake up by himself now,” he tells Daehyun, serious.

“Wonderful,” Daehyun says, rolling his eyes and seeing what Himchan meant.

Jongup grins at him. “What’s for breakfast?”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't think this fic will ever end haha whoops thanks to everyone who is still reading and commenting i love you


	11. Chapter 11

Daehyun eavesdrops on the video call while washing dishes, the suds reaching past his elbows and the water running just below the painful side of hot. Though his back is to the boys, he can still hear their shrill, excited voices as they speak to their father at the kitchen table with the help of a neatly propped up iPad, Himchan’s own voice tinny and breaking up a bit over the connection.

“And then!” Junhong is saying, “I helped hyung make spaghetti for dinner!”

“Oh,” Himchan responds, elongating the vowel, and Daehyun tries to ignore how it sounds very much like he's crooning. “That’s great, Junhong.”

“Hyung cooks good food. Can we invite him over to cook for us?” Junhong chirps.

Himchan coughs and Daehyun bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, focusing on the dishes.

“What are you guys going to do today?” Himchan asks as a diversion.

During breakfast, Daehyun had filled the boys in on the plan to go to the aquarium for the day. Both had gone there before with their schools, but they were excited to see the sharks and the seals with someone as cool as Daehyun. They promised to behave and be ready in time in order to go, and so far, were fulfilling that promise.

“We’re going to the acka--acka--”

“Aquarium,” Jongup finishes for his brother. “Hyung says he’s seen dolphins before. In the _ocean_. Daddy, hyung lived in Busan! Did you know that?”

“I did not know that,” Himchan says, though he seems distracted. “No, I don’t want to involve Akanishi. He’s insufferable. Do _not_ invite him.”

“Hyung says he can catch crabs with his hands,” Jongup continues, nonplussed. “Can you do that, Daddy?”

Himchan says something in Japanese, harsh and quick that makes Jongup squeak. The chair he’s haphazardly squatting on scrapes back against the hardwood floor. Junhong gasps like he’s heard a string of very bad words. Maybe he has. Daehyun wouldn’t be surprised if the kids knew a bit of Japanese, too.

Daehyun shuts the water off and shakes his hands of the excess, drying them on a dish rag by the sink. Fixing a smile onto his face, he turns to the kids and to the screen of the iPad, noting how Himchan is no longer even in view. Through the speakers, he can hear Himchan having a muted but rapid conversation in another language. “Okay,” he announces loudly, “looks like Daddy’s got to start working now, so let’s say bye.”

Junhong’s first instinct is to glare at Daehyun, but it’s hard to feel threatened by a cute five-year-old with slightly watery eyes and ruddy cheeks. His glare quickly subsides, anyway, and he looks back at the iPad with a pout.

Himchan returns, leaning in too close to the camera for a moment so that they get a close up of the line of his jaw and throat. “Bye? Already?” He seems harried.

“You’re working,” Daehyun says. “And we need to get ready, anyway.”

Himchan nods, pulling at the collar of his t-shirt. He still hasn’t changed out of what he wore to sleep last night. The get-up makes him look much younger -- his age, even. “Yeah, me too. Okay, bye kids.” He waves. “Don’t be mean to Daehyun, okay? Listen to what he says. Be good.”

“Bye!” the boys say at least ten times each. “Bye, Dad! Bye!”

Before Daehyun disconnects, Himchan stands and stretches his arms over his head, pulling his shirt up and revealing a strip of pale, firm flesh over the band of his shorts.

“Bye,” Daehyun says in a much higher pitch than usual, feeling blood rush to his cheeks.

“Have fun today. See you tomorrow.” Himchan sighs, bends at the waist in order to wave again at the camera, and then he ends the call.

.

They manage to get to the aquarium with a minimum amount of hassle; the boys are surprisingly well-behaved on public transportation, so even though Daehyun has two back-up plans in case the subway doesn't work out, he didn’t need to put either of them into use.

They linger for a long time in the underwater tunnel, peering up at the white bellies of the sharks that swim over them and taking pictures with the creatures when they float by. The turtles are also a big hit. Junhong, in particular, can’t believe something so small can be well over fifty years old.

“That’s _way_ older than Daddy!” Junhong exclaims when Daehyun reads the placard aloud for them.

“He should come with us next time,” Jongup says. His face is pressed against the glass as he follows the slow movements of one of the larger turtles in the tank. “I want to come with him, too.”

Daehyun stands before the glass with Junhong on one side and Jongup on the other, and he feels a pang in his chest at the familiar note of longing in Jongup’s words. Jongup just wants his dad to be around, to be accessible, to be in the picture. Daehyun can relate. He reaches out both hands and, like they are all holding magnets in their palms, each boy moves to grip his fingers without him needing to ask. “Let’s tell him, then. Tomorrow morning, when he comes back. Tell him he has to come with us, next time.”

Junhong and Jongup squeeze his hands, nodding vigorously with bright smiles on their faces, before they move on to the next tank.

.

At some time around three in the morning, the door to the guest bedroom creaks open again, and little footsteps pad along the floors to the bed. The springs creak as Junhong and Jongup climb up and in, and Daehyun shifts around with the covers until they are all nicely cuddled underneath them.

“When Daddy comes home tomorrow,” Jongup whispers loudly against Daehyun’s ear, “will you tell him he has to come with us to the aquarium?”

“Yes,” Daehyun grunts, keeping his eyes closed. “Yes, and I will tell him to take you to the park, and to the movies, and to the zoo. And you’ll go to the beach, and I’ll show you how to catch crabs with your hands and fish with little nets. And the mall...we’ll go shopping...we ran out of chicken…”

Junhong giggles, a sweet sound that becomes the jingling of bells in Daehyun’s dreams. “Good night, hyung,” he whispers, planting a kiss on Daehyun’s ear.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> literally i don't know when this will end OTL thanks for your continued support ;;; <3333


	12. Chapter 12

Himchan returns like a ship finding harbor in a storm. There’s a bit of a tussle at the front door when Junhong and Jongup won’t let go of his legs in order for him to actually enter, and then the business of unloading everything in his arms and on his back nearly manages to topple them all over as he attempts to wade into the living room, handing off packages to Daehyun.

Daehyun hovers, ready to lend a steadying hand.

“Daddy!” Junhong screams gleefully, scrambling into Himchan’s lap when his father finally makes it to the couch, throws his messenger bag onto the cushions, and plops down spread eagle into a seat.

“Yes,” Himchan sighs, as Jongup clambers up to settle against his other side. “I am here.”

“Welcome home,” Daehyun says, laden down with a few paper bags of various sizes on each arm, unbalanced.

Himchan blinks at him, frowns, and then he snaps up out of the couch again in a rush, the kids nearly colliding heads with each other when his sudden absence makes them fold together. “Oh, Jesus. Did I do that? Bad habit,” Himchan says quickly. He picks the bags off Daehyun with the same delicacy of plucking lint from a nice jacket.

“It’s fine,” Daehyun says. Today Himchan is wearing a pair of slim, dark jeans and a simple white t-shirt, his sunglasses hooked into the point of his v-neck collar. Daehyun hardly ever sees him out of a suit, and when he’s dressed down like this Daehyun can’t help but act the way he does around his older brother’s friends, shy in the face of cooler, more stylish men. He bites his lip. “What are all these bags for?”

Himchan turns back to the boys with bags nearly bursting out of his hands. Lifting them, he announces cheerfully, “Presents!”

Most of the bags are full of Japanese sweets, new clothes for the boys, and a few comic books. Junhong and Jongup forage through the pile of gifts that have accumulated on the couch between them, choosing their favorites with delighted squeals.

“I went shopping after dinner,” Himchan explains with a shrug, still holding one bag. “I got this for you.”

“Oh,” Daehyun says. It’s a small, plain paper bag, with no markings on the outside for any clues. His heart flutters as he tries to keep the smile on his face an appropriate size. “Thank you?”

Himchan holds it up on the hook of his finger and waggles it for good measure. “It’s nothing much,” he continues. “Just a little thank you for being so great with them. For keeping them out of trouble.”

Daehyun takes the bag, rustling the tissues paper inside of it around before drawing the gift out and--

“It’s an apron,” Daehyun says, the disbelief apparent in his voice. He lets it unfold in his hands and holds it against his waist. It’s a half-apron, candy-pink with yellow and white accents. Upon closer inspection, the apron has an egg theme, with a little yellow chick sewn into one corner.

Himchan's face pales, and he says, with difficulty, “It was -- it’s supposed to be funny. You cook for us so much. I thought -- God, it’s not funny at all, is it? I didn’t buy you an apron because I want you to cook _more_ for us, or anything--”

“I love it.”

Himchan’s teeth clack together with the force of him shutting his mouth, and he looks at Daehyun with wide, surprised eyes.

“I mean -- I get it? It’s pretty funny. It’s cute, too. I’ll probably actually wear it, now. Look, the pockets seem like they’ll be really useful...”

Himchan snickers and rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to pretend.”

“I’m not!”

“I should have just brought you _mochi_.”

“The apron’s better,” Daehyun argues. “It tells me you thought about it. You took the time to think, hey, this would be a funny gift. Maybe he would like it. Besides, I would have eaten all the mochi on the way home. This has longevity.”

Himchan stares at him, hands on his hips and grin on his lips and a sharp look in his eyes for long enough that Daehyun feels the heat begin to creep up over his neck and into his ears and onto his cheeks. Goddammit, Himchan’s just _so attractive._

“Thank you,” Daehyun repeats.

Himchan sighs and shrugs again. He reaches into his back pocket to take out his wallet and pulls out a couple of large bills.

“Wait.”

Himchan peers up at him, pursing his lips. Daehyun shifts back and forth on his feet.

“You know, I’ve been spending a lot of time with your kids,” he says.

Himchan nods, guarded confusion on his face, his expression pinched.

“I just -- I worry--” Daehyun swallows, looking at Junhong and Jongup on the couch, and Himchan follows his gaze. “Can we talk in the kitchen?”

They go, and Himchan sits down in one of the chairs with force. Daehyun follows, gentler. “What’s up?” Himchan says, leaning forward into Daehyun’s space.

“Jongup and Junhong are such sweet kids,” Daehyun begins cautiously, as Himchan’s nostrils flare. “I just wanted to let you know -- some things I’ve noticed." He pauses to assess Himchan, but figures sharing this information is worth however the older man choose to respond, whether that is with anger or something else. "Like, they really miss you? When you’re gone. They’re always asking about you and whether or not you’re coming back. Over this weekend they wouldn’t sleep in their own beds. They wanted me to be absolutely sure you were coming back. I think -- it would be nice if you were around them more. Or, not just _around_ them, but, like, actually _doing things_ with them. Um.”

He talks with his hands. It’s a distracting habit that gave him a lot of grief during high school when they had to give presentations in front of the class. As an elementary school teacher, it’s not as bad, because his hands usually have something to occupy them, but sitting in front of Himchan with his piercing stare and chiseled features, he realizes he’s been waving his arms around like a drunk person trying to hail a cab. He sits on his hands, mashing his lips together and waiting for Himchan's response.

Himchan bursts into laughter, and a spike of hurt lances through Daehyun’s chest. That is not what he'd been expecting.

His face falls, and the other man must notice, because then Himchan says, “Oh, god. No. I thought you were going to quit.” His laughter ceases, and he takes a deep breath. “Or ask for a raise.”

“I -- _No._ ”

“The raise I could entertain,” Himchan says, “but quitting is not an option.”

“I’m not quitting,” Daehyun repeats. “I just told you--”

“I know,” Himchan interrupts with a wave of his hand. Daehyun falls silent. “I know I need to spend more time with them. But work is work. And they’ve got program...When I get back home, all I want to do -- all _they_ want to do -- is take a nice shower and relax and sleep.”

“What about the weekends?”

Himchan drops his gaze. “Honestly? Usually I ask Yongguk to come over. He loves kids. Too bad he was busy this time around.”

“And what do you do?”

“Nothing,” he says a little too quickly.

“Well, if it’s nothing,” Daehyun says hotly, “then you can do something with your kids, instead. Even if it’s just cooking. Or, like, watching a movie together. Reading a story. Going for a walk. Simple things, right? Listen, I can help you find things to do that are easy, that anyone could do.”

Himchan’s expression shutters, and Daehyun is reminded suddenly of his mother, and he thinks perhaps he should learn to mind his own business, or learn at least when to stop pushing.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“No,” Himchan says, sighing. “Don’t be. I know. You’re right. It’s just -- hard.”

“Let me help you.”

Himchan takes the apron that is still in Daehyun’s hands and folds it meticulously into a square, sliding it back into the paper bag and setting it on the table. He puts Daehyun’s payment on the table, too. He nods, shoulders stiff. “Thanks for this weekend,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Daehyun recognizes a dismissal when he receives one. He stands, says goodbye to Junhong and Jongup with tight hugs for each, and leaves with his present.

.


	13. Chapter 13

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us for dinner, Daehyun?” Youngjae calls from his room. His door is open, and if Daehyun cranes his neck he can make out where Youngjae is checking his reflection in the long body mirror by his closet from his bed. “Eunji was asking about you.”

“Well, tell Eunji I’m sorry. I don’t really want to get up right now.” He throws his head back against his pillow, bouncing a bit as the futon catches him. The futon in Youngjae’s living room isn’t such a bad place to sleep.. He closes his eyes.

“What’s up, man?”

Youngjae’s voice is noticeably closer. The futon creaks again, this time with his friend’s weight. Youngjae is wearing cologne, and it smells wonderfully spicy.

“Nothing, I’m just tired,” Daehyun says, rolling over to face him. He’s tired but restless, and he sits up again. “Plus, I’ve got all this reading to do…”

“Want me to bring anything back? What was that thing you really liked again?”

Youngjae frowns. Daehyun frowns, too, leaning in close and tapping Youngjae’s nose with a finger. “Your hair’s all fucked,” he teases, reaching up to run his fingers through Youngjae’s fringe and sweeping the soft hairs to the side. “You don’t have to bring anything back. I have leftovers. There, all better.”

He lets his hands fall into his lap. For a moment, it looks like Youngjae wants to say something more, but for whatever reason, he lets it pass. “Fine,” Youngjae says. “But text me if you need anything.”

He leaves, and Daehyun brings out all his books and articles and tries very, very hard to focus and read and get some classwork done, but his mind just keeps drifting back to Junhong and Jongup and finally to Himchan, to that precious little family.

Thinking about Himchan now makes him both a bit sad and a bit angry. How can he be so good at his job and so successful but so crap at spending time with his children? It is clear, Daehyun thinks, that he loves them, but it is also clear that there is a disconnect between loving them and showing it. For the first time since the drawing incident, he lets himself wonder about the kids’ mother.

Which makes him think about his own mother.

Daehyun’s mother is a small powerhouse of a woman. She might only come up to his father’s chest but her presence is commanding and her stature confident. The last time they’d spoken was the last time he went home, long before summer started, and their conversation had been mostly one-sided. It ended with Daehyun charging into his room and packing his bags, tears making his vision blur and threatening to fall. He’d taken the first train back to the city.

His father called him a couple hours later. “Are you back at school?” he’d asked, and Daehyun said he was, and they didn’t mention the fight.

Now, he wishes he hadn’t left so quickly. If he had stayed to talk to her again, would they be like this now, with her avoiding his calls and his father acting as their desperate mediator? His heart aches a bit in his chest.

Daehyun looks down at the open text book in his lap. He’d highlighted nearly the entire page. Sighing, he bookmarks the page and puts the book away on his nightstand on top of a pile of other books waiting to be read. Then he picks up his phone and calls his father.

His dad’s voice message answers him, followed by a beep.

“Hey, dad,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. “Just calling to say hi. Um, it’s Saturday night so I hope you guys are having a nice dinner. Love you. Um, can you -- can you tell mom I say hi?”

He hangs up, completing the message before the operating system gives him the option to erase it.

.

“Hyung,” Jongup, standing on a small plastic step ladder to reach the counter, whispers to him as he fills a bowl with shredded cheese from a packet. Tonight, they are making personal pizzas. It’s easy and is guaranteed to kill a lot of time. Daehyun stands at the counter wearing his apron at Junhong’s insistence, and chops vegetables into bite-sized pieces. “Are you tired?”

“I’m fine, Jonguppie,” he says. The knife makes a satisfying _thunk_ noise going through a small onion. Junhong sits at the kitchen table, separating the pre-sliced pepperoni into singles on a plate. It’s not necessary, but it keeps him occupied.

“You keep rubbing your eyes,” Jongup says. “And yawning.”

“Maybe I’m a little tired,” Daehyun admits.

“Because we’re making you tired?” Jongup whispers again.

“Aw,” Daehyun says, “no, of course not.” He reaches up to pat Jongup’s head but thinks better of it, not wanting to get onion all over the boy’s hair. Jongup shakes the bag to loosen all the shredded cheese and frowns. He doesn’t look convinced. “I didn’t sleep very much last night, Jonguppie,” Daehyun explains. “I’m in school, so sometimes I have a lot of work to do that keeps me up.”

“Like homework?”

“Yeah.”

“Daddy has a lot of homework,” Jongup says. He shakes the bag viciously. “So! Much! Homework!”

“Okay, dude.” Daehyun takes the bag and crumples it up in his fist and tosses it into the garbage. “Thanks for helping me with the cheese. Do you want to put the other stuff into bowls, too?”

“Yes!”

He watches with a smile on his face as Jongup carefully steps down from the ladder, and then he winces when Jongup moves the step-ladder and it screeches against the floor. He climbs back up again to open the cabinets, taking out a few plastic bowls (the glass ones are kept on the higher shelves).

Making pizza with the kids is a rousing success and not quite as messy as Daehyun feared it would be, and they all collaborate to make an especially intricate one for Himchan for when he gets home. When he puts the plate-sized pizzas into the oven and switches on the internal light, the boys stand in front of the little viewing window, gazing upon their creations.

Himchan returns just as Daehyun finishes cleaning up the counter, and the babysitter quickly unties the apron and folds it before getting caught with it on. He’s not sure why, but he doesn’t want Himchan to see him wearing it. The boys drag Himchan over as he’s taking off his shoes, eager to show them the delicious results of their hard work.

“You made those?” Himchan says in awe.

“That one’s mine,” Junhong announces, pointing to the one in the back right corner. “That’s Jonguppie-hyung’s! That’s Daehyunnie-hyung’s! And that one’s Daddy’s!”

“They look delicious,” Himchan says. He turns to look back at Daehyun. The top button of his shirt is free, offering a glimpse of the dip between his collarbones. “Hey,” he says, a little unsure of himself.

“Hi,” Daehyun returns. “They said you’d want a lot of sausage. Sorry if we went a little overboard.”

Himchan peeks back into the oven, and then he chuckles. Beside him, Junhong looks up at his father with open expectation on his face. Himchan ruffles his hair, hesitates, and then pulls him close. “It’s perfect,” he says. “How did you know?”

Junhong laughs.

Daehyun puts Himchan to work taking out the pizzas and setting up the table while he goes back into the living room to root around the cushions on the couch for the book he and the kids had been reading aloud earlier. When he returns, there’s an empty seat waiting for him, and his own personal pizza.

He glances at the seat, then at Himchan’s hopeful expression, then back at the seat. He gives the book to Himchan, who takes it warily. “We were reading this together before,” he explains. “I told them you would finish chapter three with them later tonight.”

“Oh,” Himchan says, giving the book a quick thumb-through. "But I’ve got so many emails to catch up on. They’ll probably be asleep by--”

“Himchan,” Daehyun says. “You’ve got to try, at least.”

He holds his breath as Himchan reads the back cover of the book. He’s not really reading the back cover at all, Daehyun knows, and he watches Himchan's expression soften.

“Okay,” Himchan says on an exhale. “Okay, chapter three, right?”

Daehyun doesn’t miss the way the kids look to each other, grinning with pizza sauce smeared on each cheek. He has a sneaking suspicion that Himchan’s promised read-alouds before but never quite got to them, or was distracted for most of the activity.

“Aren’t you staying for dinner?”

Daehyun stares, and Himchan smiles, and it is the first time Daehyun recognizes a nervous energy behind it, like his eyes are asking, _please_. Though he’d made his own pizza, Daehyun had assumed the boys would want seconds, anyway, and split the one he made between them after. He never stays for dinner.

“Would you...like me to?”

“I think,” Himchan starts slowly, “it would be nice. You can catch me up on what happened the first two chapters of the story. Hate to miss out.”

“All right,” Daehyun says. His chair scrapes against the floor when he sits. He puts his hands on the table, and for a moment it looks like Himchan is going to reach out and take his fingers and -- do _something_ \-- but then they meet each other’s eyes and Daehyun realizes that had been wishful thinking on his part.

They eat dinner together around the table, and it almost feels like Daehyun is back home.

.


	14. Chapter 14

There is only a month left of summer, and staying for dinner becomes a regular occurrence. The kids take him in without a fuss; with Himchan, however, it still feels a bit like the keys are in ignition but the car is stalling. At times Himchan will sputter to life, telling jokes at the table, asking after their days, promising to finish whatever book they are reading, but all it takes is one bad evening to throw the whole thing off course.

“Will you be okay?” Daehyun asks as he’s slipping on his sneakers in the receiving area. They’ve just finished dinner -- light this time with rice and _kimchi_ pancakes and a couple of side dishes -- and Himchan has bags under his eyes that sag and make his whole face seem like it’s drooping. He hasn’t changed out of his collared shirt and slacks, but has unbuttoned the shirt to the point that his undershirt is clearly visible. Already rumpled when he arrived home, Daehyun watched him throughout the course of dinner sink lower and lower into his chair and pull away from conversation.

“I’ll be fine,” Himchan says, his voice rough. “We’ll be fine. It’s just one chapter. We’re running out of books, by the way.”

“I can suggest a few titles,” Daehyun offers, pulling on the straps of his backpack next. “Are you sure? I can stay for a bit--”

“You should go,” Himchan says. Daehyun’s mouth remains open mid-sentence, shock rendering him speechless. Himchan blinks and rubs his eyes. “I mean, you stay late already. I’m sure you have your own life to get back to. It’s fine. But, thank you.”

Behind Himchan, Daehyun sees Junhong creeping down the stairs from the second floor in his pajamas, Jongup following close at his heels. They pause on the steps, probably trying to listen. When Himchan turns to follow Daehyun’s gaze, the kids squeak and dash back up the steps like they’ve been caught sneaking peaks at their birthday presents before the day.

“They really like story time,” Daehyun tells him.

Himchan meets his gaze, steady and intense, and he gives Daehyun a small, genuine smile. Daehyun finds himself smiling back in response, a blush rising up into his cheeks.

“Thanks, really, for all your help,” Himchan says. “It’s been -- a tough year.”

Himchan’s hand comes up and Daehyun panics for a moment, hands tightening around the straps at his shoulders, but all Himchan does is brush Daehyun’s hair to the side a bit, and then lay his hand on his shoulder. Daehyun has to look up at him, with how close they’re standing. He stops breathing, mostly because he can’t process what’s happening and partly because he thinks maybe his breath might smell and he should do his best to prevent Himchan from smelling it. His heart jumps around in his chest, even though his feet stay rooted in place, and he feels that blush in his cheeks evolve into flaming heat.

“You’ve helped us so much,” Himchan says softly, a fond look on his face. He gives Daehyun’s shoulder a light squeeze, and then the touch is gone, and Himchan is turning back to go inside. “See you tomorrow, Daehyun.”

“Bye,” Daehyun coughs when he realizes he should respond, but the door has already closed.

.

Daehyun’s day starts late. It takes Youngjae shaking him awake asking why he isn’t on the way to class yet for Daehyun’s brain to clear its fog, and it doesn’t necessarily get better from there.

He spills his coffee all over his books when he sits down for his first class, and then he is late for his second because he has to go back for his phone, which he finds under one of the seats. They are breaking up into discussion groups when Daehyun remembers he didn’t do the reading, and then he zones out for most of the rest of the class.

Since he woke late, he also didn’t pack lunch, but buying lunch is no hardship because of his well-paying job. By the time his third and final class is over for the day, Daehyun is grumpy and tired enough that Youngjae lets him fall into his lap on the couch and lay there while they watch bad television for nearly an hour without questions.

Then, his phone rings, and it’s his mother.

“Aren’t you going to get it?” Youngjae asks him when all Daehyun does is stare at the phone in his hand. It keeps vibrating, and Daehyun realizes Youngjae had been playing with his hair. He stops, now. “You can take my room,” his friend says. “If you want to talk.”

Daehyun thanks him quickly and rises, answering the phone and holding it up to his ear as he walks over to Youngjae’s room and closes the door behind him. “Hello?”

“Daehyun-ah,” his mother says, her voice scratchy. “Daehyun-ah, my son.”

“Hi, mom.” He has to sit down on the bed, resisting the urge to fling himself back into it and curl up under the covers. He remembers the message he’d left his dad and wonders if he’d spoken to her about it.

“How have you been?”

Daehyun opens his mouth to say something, but his throat closes up on him.

“Daehyun?”

“Fine,” he says. “Fine. What about you?”

“Oh, you know,” she says with the air of someone very put-upon. “Your father makes me take all my medicine and does everything for me. You would think I’m already in a nursing home!” She laughs, but Daehyun doesn’t.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he says instead, unsure how to connect with her. A wall has been built between them. He feels like he is tossing messages over the wall hoping that she receives them.

“Of course I do.”

They pause, and Daehyun clenches his fist around Youngjae’s sheets.

“I'm sorry,” she says abruptly, “but I think I’m getting another call. I need to go. Please tell me about school, later, okay?”

“Okay,” Daehyun whispers.

She hangs up, and he listens to the dial tone until he can’t tell if it is the dial tone anymore or if it’s his ears buzzing.

.


	15. Chapter 15

Instead of going straight back to their apartment, Daehyun brings Junhong and Jongup to the park near their place to run off their extra energy, explaining the rules to them -- “I need to be able to see you at all times. If you can’t hear me, you’re too far away. Play nice with the other kids.” -- and sitting down with a book he’s been meaning to finish since last month.

Every time a kid screams in delight, though, he’s jarred out of the literature, and he can’t focus anyway because he’s still thinking about his mom. His dad has been keeping him abreast of her health, which is on the upswing, and even though he’s relieved about that, he can’t find it in himself to celebrate -- or forgive.

He thinks his own pride is really the issue, here.

“Ah!” Junhong rushes up to him and collides with Daehyun’s knees, crawling up the park bench to sit next to him. “Can we come here tomorrow, too?”

Daehyun puts his book to the side and smiles. “You like this park?”

“Yes! Jonguppie-hyung said tomorrow he’ll teach me how to go down the woo-woo-woo thing,” Junhong says excitedly, twirling his fingers in a curlie-cue to indicate the playscape he’s referring to.

“Why not today?”

Junhong makes a face. “He’s busy. Playing with _Sooyoung_.”

He points, and Daehyun follows his little finger with his eyes. There, under the big yellow slide, Jongup is building a miniature fort out of twigs with a little girl.

“They’re friends,” Junhong explains. “But he says I can’t be friends with her.”

“That’s not very nice,” Daehyun says placidly.

Junhong shrugs. “That’s okay. I don’t like girls, anyway.”

He hops off the bench, then, and shrieks as he runs to join a group of boys near the monkey bars. Daehyun shakes his head, grinning, and settles back against the seat of the bench, holding his book in his lap.

“Is he yours?” the woman to his right asks him.

“No, I’m their babysitter.”

“Well, he’s adorable,” she says anyway.

.

That evening, Himchan returns early. That in itself isn’t an anomaly, but what happens next is.

The kids are coloring at the kitchen table and Daehyun is just turning on the automatic rice cooker, and all the vegetables are chopped and the meat is marinated but Himchan stands in the middle of the kitchen and spreads his arms and says, “Let’s go out for dinner.”

Daehyun nearly drops the cutting board onto his foot in surprise, while Junhong and Jongup blink at their father from the kitchen table, crayons falling from their lax grips. Himchan smiles and waits and Daehyun scrambles to take the pink apron off from around his waist.

“Where?” he asks.

Himchan shrugs. “I don’t know. I had a successful day of work, I’m home early, and I want to go out with -- my kids. Jongup, Junhong -- what do you guys want?”

“Hamburgers!” Jongup suggests immediately, cramming crayons back into the box and sliding out of his chair, running up to Himchan to plead his case, but Junhong is quick to follow.

“Spaghetti!”

“French fries!”

“Chicken!”

“Pizza!”

“Woah,” Himchan says, stopping them both as they hang onto his legs. “You’re literally choosing every unhealthy fast-food option available. Daehyun, what do you think?”

Daehyun thinks the way Himchan is smiling right now is seriously bad for his own health, with the way his pulse is picking up speed and his blood is heating up in his cheeks and along the back of his neck. He thinks Happy is a good look on Himchan. He thinks Youngjae is right -- he is so, _so_ invested.

“Italian might be a good option,” he says slowly. “There’s spaghetti, but also meatballs for Jongup, which are kind of like mini hamburgers…”

They’re not like mini hamburgers at all, but Jongup shoots him half of a suspicious look before giving him a rather serious nod. “I’ll try it,” he offers.

.

Most of dinner is making sure that less sauce ends up on the table and more sauce in the kids’ mouths. Junhong likes slurping his noodles, so every time he takes a bite, it’s like trying to dodge an errant hose going out of control in the backyard, red sauce flying everywhere. Jongup is more interested in burying his face in his plate, so even if it isn’t messy for everyone else, it’s very messy for him.

“We tried,” Himchan says with a sigh as he wipes Junhong’s entire face for the twentieth time that evening. Junhong laughs behind the napkin. Jongup announces that he likes Italian food.

Daehyun is very conscious of how close their ankles are to each other under the table, how whenever Himchan moves, he knocks against Daehyun, and Daehyun tries not to let it show on his face. They’re splitting a bottle of wine, but the bottle remains mostly forgotten and their plates mostly full as the kids finish their meals first.

Himchan pours him a glass and then fills his own when Junhong and Jongup get their plates taken away, and Himchan sets up his phone against the salt and pepper shakers with a cartoon playing on the screen for them to watch.

“Okay,” Himchan says. “I’m starved.”

The wine is rich and tart, bitter on Daehyun’s tongue but spreads warmth in his belly with every sip, especially as the pasta fills him up. The restaurant itself is well-lit and noisy, casual enough for families and groups of friends.

He’d expected Himchan to grow frustrated with how messy Junhong and Jongup were eating, but he had dealt with them with the kind of calm Daehyun hoped would be staying.

For once, Himchan looks really relaxed.

The older man tops off his wine again, and his eyes sparkle over the glass.

“You’re good at drinking, I hope? I’m not going to have to carry you out of here, right?”

Daehyun shakes his head, grinning, pretending his mouth is too full to answer when in reality his brain is stalling, caught on that image of Himchan pouring him a glass.

They walk out of the restaurant as a unit, Junhong in Himchan’s arms and Jongup holding Daehyun’s hand, and maybe it’s the wine that makes Daehyun blush, that makes everything seem so soft and warm, but Himchan is close to him and their fingers or their shoulders brush sometimes as they make their way back out into the city, and the kids are sleepy.

Himchan offers Daehyun money for a cab home, but Daehyun declines, preferring the train, so they walk to the station.

As he is searching for his transit card in his wallet, Jongup returns to his father’s side, and Himchan says, “When I got home, you looked -- a little down. I got the sense through dinner you don’t want to talk about it, but I hope you’re feeling better, now.”

Daehyun drops his transit card, surprised, hurrying to pick it up back up.

Himchan shifts Junhong higher and takes Jongup’s hand in his. “I think I’m getting the hang of this,” he says softly. “Have a good night, Daehyun.”

Daehyung goes into the station, feeling foolish and giddy, unable to keep the smile off his face.

.


	16. Chapter 16

Daehyun raises his eyebrows when he sees the caller ID on his phone. He picks it up, scrunching his face when Youngjae mutters, “rude,” under his breath. “Hello--”

“Help,” Himchan says calmly from the other end. “I know it’s the weekend and not very much notice at all. But the kids are out of control.”

“Do you need me to come over?” Daehyun asks, his response immediate. He winces when Youngjae kicks him under the table. It doesn’t hurt at all, so it’s more for show. Today is the first day in a long while that he and Youngjae are hanging out with each other; finally, their schedules synced up and Daehyun didn’t have ridiculous amounts of readings to do for his classes and they were going to eat brunch, watch a movie, go shopping, and end the day with drinks and dinner. He and Youngjae had really been looking forward to it.

“If you can,” Himchan says. It sounds like his jaw is very tight, like maybe he’s gritting his teeth. In the background, Daehyun hears a shriek and thinks that must be Junhong. Then something crashes. Himchan curses under his breath. “Okay, I’m a sinking ship here,” Himchan continues more rapidly. “If you can come over to help out you would save my life.”

“Give me half an hour,” Daehyun finds himself saying, shrinking under Youngjae’s glare. To distract himself, he pushes his scrambled eggs around on his plate.

He hears Himchan sigh. “Thank you,” he says. “Thank you, thank you.”

The other man hangs up.

Youngjae clears his throat as Daehyun slowly does the same.

“We had our whole day planned out,” Youngjae complains. “I even bought our movie tickets already!”

“I’m sure Eunji would like to go,” Daehyun offers, trying to smile.

“I’m sure she would,” Youngjae says, “but that’s not the point.”

“I’ll make it up to you -- I’ll buy you coffee for the next week! I’m sorry. He sounded really panicked, Youngjae. I have to--”

“They’re _his_ kids,” Youngjae says, throwing his weight back in his seat and crossing his arms, pouting fantastically. “He needs to learn how to deal with them himself.”

“He _is_ learning.”

“Well,” Youngjae scoffs. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

He grumbles as Daehyun takes out enough cash to cover both of their meals, and they bicker a bit as they finish up, but Daehyun’s mind is set.

Youngjae calls Eunji to see if she’d like to meet him at the theater, and Daehyun goes to Himchan’s.

.

“Thank god,” Himchan exhales when he answers the door, already turning to go back into the house as Daehyun steps out of his shoes. “I swear there’s something in the water today -- they’re totally wild.” He’s wearing a black tank and thin sweats and Daehyun can’t help but admire the strong line of his bare shoulders and his tapered, tight waist.

Daehyun jumps when Himchan glances at him, scared he’s been caught looking. When he opens his mouth to say something, he’s interrupted by Junhong flying down the stairs shouting at the tops of his lungs, running the fastest his legs will allow him.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Himchan growls, intercepting Junhong before he makes it into the living room. He scoops his son up by the waist and flinches when Junhong’s legs don’t stop kicking.

“Put me down!” Junhong demands snottily. “Hey! Daddy!”

“I told you not to run down the stairs like that,” Himchan says.

Junhong screams, and Himchan puts him down quickly, surprised and rattled. His son scampers off, throwing himself into the cushions in the living room.

Himchan scrubs at his hair angrily, and now Daehyun can see the trials of the past few hours in the way his skin is tight around his eyes and his lips. “They’ve been like this all day,” Himchan confesses, striding over and standing nearly hip to hip with Daehyun. “I almost called Yongguk, but then -- I need to stop relying on him so much, you know?”

Which means he’s relying on Daehyun instead. Just a few days ago, Himchan expressed his growing confidence in his parenting, but Daehyun sees no evidence of that confidence in the man before him now.

“Hey,” he starts gently, his fingers hovering over Himchan’s upper arm. Himchan turns to face him, close. “It’s okay. It happens. There are good days and bad days, and everybody needs a break sometimes. Why don’t you take one? I’ll watch them for a while.”

Himchan’s shoulders sag as he breathes out. “Putting out an ad and hiring you…” he says, trailing off. He leans even closer, and their shoulders bump against each other. “Just an hour,” he continues. “That’s all I need.”

Daehyun’s voice cracks when he says, “No problem,” and his ears turn red when Himchan smiles.

.

“Hyung,” Jongup says from in front of the rice cooker. He’s watching the steam rise from the lid, cheeks pillowed in his hands. “Hyung, when will it be ready?”

“Just a few minutes, Jonguppie.”

They’ve decided to make rice balls. Well, Daehyun decided they needed to sit down and do something together that was both quiet and productive, and Junhong said he was hungry. After nearly ten minutes of chasing them around the first floor, the kids finally tired enough for the idea to appeal to them. Junhong stands next to Daehyun on a short step ladder, pressing stars and hearts with a plastic cookie cutter out of the thin carrot slices and the ham Daehyun prepared for him.

“We like it when hyung is here,” Junhong says with a grunt, grinning when he holds up a carrot star.

“I like it when I’m here, too,” Daehyun says agreeably.

“Hyung should just live here,” Junhong chirps. “With us and with Daddy.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Daddy would like it,” Junhong says, turning to face Daehyun and pausing in his work. Somehow, he’s gotten a piece of ham on his face. Daehyun pinches it off of him. “Daddy likes hyung.”

Daehyun laughs as Jongup steps up onto the ladder with Junhong, squeezed together on the small platform.

“Is hyung happy about that?” Jongup asks him, eyebrows pinched together.

“Aaahhhhhh,” Daehyun says, head suddenly filling with sappy images of him and Himchan holding hands on the beach, going shopping, going to the movies, walking along the Han River. “I think the rice is done.”

“Goody!” Jongup cheers.

They spend the next hour carefully making little rice balls sprinkled with dried seaweed and sesame seeds, decorated by carrot stars and ham hearts, and their conversation mostly sticks to instructions for the activity and what the kids want for dinner over the next week. They make a platter filled with food, and Junhong insists on packing it into tupperware for them to bring to their summer program to share with their classes on Monday.

“See?” Daehyun hears Jongup whispering to Junhong as he’s packing the rice balls in the kitchen. The kids are still at the table, finishing the last of them. “I told you he would come.”

.


	17. Chapter 17

Daehyun puts the kids in front of the television to watch _Frozen_ again while munching on the snacks they made, and then he treads up the steps to look for Himchan. He’s been a little gracious and given him an hour and a half when Himchan asked for an hour.

He knocks on Himchan’s door and nudges it open, expecting the man to be asleep, but is surprised to find Himchan sitting slumped at the foot of his bed, hunched over the brightly lit screen of his phone in his hands.

“Hey,” he says softly, lingering by the doorframe.

Daehyun’s never been inside Himchan’s room. It is much as he imagined, though -- a large bed with fluffy blankets and pillows that have been used only on one side and sparse and functional furniture. Clean lines and muted colors. Something he was not expecting is the guitar propped against the dresser in the corner.

“Hey,” Himchan yawns. He slowly straightens and stretches his hands over his head, his back arching and the black tank riding up his stomach. “Come in.”

“They’re watching _Frozen,_ ” Daehyun tells him as he enters slowly. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, unsure what to do with them or how to behave in the intimate space of Himchan’s bedroom. “It’s like their fiftieth time watching it but they still love it.”

“I was just about to come downstairs.” Himchan’s voice is soft and scratchy and sends a shiver down Daehyun’s spine. He pats the bed beside him, and after a moment of hesitation, Daehyun perches at the very edge of the mattress.

Himchan smiles down at the picture on his phone, the kind of smile that would make Daehyun feel warm and loved if directed at him. Daehyun leans over to peer at the screen and finds the image of Himchan with his arm loosely draped over the shoulders of a woman, both of them facing the camera and propped against a railing before a large body of water and, beyond that, the skyline of a city. The woman is pretty, with a slender figure and full smile. Junhong has her facial structure, and Jongup has her dimples.

“She’s pretty,” Daehyun says.

Himchan leans against him, their arms pressed together. “She is. She was. I can’t believe it’s been over a year.”

Daehyun presses his lips together because even though his mind is whirring with questions, he’s not sure what to say to that.

Himchan sighs and shakes his head. He swipes his thumb over the screen of his phone and the picture disappears. “Sorry. It’s been tough. I was -- floundering. Then you came along.”

Daehyun sucks in a breath when Himchan drapes his arm over his shoulders, pulling him in close. He feels his heart pounding in his chest like he’s just finished running a marathon. He’s sure that if he were standing right now, his legs would have given out, too. “Me?”

“Yeah,” Himchan says, squeezing him a bit. Daehyun’s heart stops pounding and just _stops_. Himchan smells like old spice and vanilla and honey. He remembers to breathe. “You.”

They stand together, and Daehyun blinks away the dizziness of his crush.

Himchan says, “Do you want to stay for some coffee before you go?”

.

Youngjae has set up camp on the couch when Daehyun comes home. On one side of him sits a mostly empty bowl of potato chips, and on the other side a mound of pillows and blankets for when Daehyun goes to sleep. His fingers fly over the controller in his hands, and he stares resolutely at the screen as Daehyun slips his feet from his shoes.

“Hey,” Daehyun greets, a little wary of the lack of response from his friend. Youngjae is crackling with something very close to anger. Daehyun guesses that dinner with Eunji had been cut short.

Youngjae grunts.

He puts his bag away and goes to sit on the couch with Youngjae, but Youngjae does nothing to make space. Frowning, Daehyun shoves the pillows and blankets to the side so he can squeeze in next to Youngjae, and leans back to watch him play the video game.

He thinks about coffee with Himchan. It had been oddly peaceful, a scene out of a movie complete with a gold filter, as Himchan prepared the coffee and Daehyun watched him at the counter, admiring the curve of his back, the knobs of his vertebrae visible above the collar of his tank. They sat and talked about what Daehyun wanted to do when he was done with school. They talked about Himchan’s job. He’d studied business and finance and risen very quickly from a young age and carries the title of Director quite proudly, but then he smiled down at his coffee and looked over to where Junhong and Jongup were sprawled on the couch watching _Frozen_ and admitted it had been difficult to spend time with his family. His priorities have changed, now. Junhong and Jongup are so important to him.

Daehyun hugs a pillow to his chest to control the butterflies in his stomach thinking about him. He must make a noise, because Youngjae turns to face him, pouting.

“You’re thinking about Himchan, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” Daehyun says, which is just as good as an admission.

Youngjae sighs and rolls his eyes and goes back to his game, and Daehyun feels a spike of annoyance in his chest at the slight.

“You’re so weird about him,” Daehyun complains, his voice sharp. “Why can’t you just give him a chance?”

“I’m not weird about him,” Youngjae says. His fingers jab into the buttons. “I just think -- never mind.”

“What?” Daehyun wheedles him. Youngjae has been annoyed ever since the beginning, and Daehyun wants out with it. He hates the tension before confrontation more than the confrontation itself. “What do you want to say?”

“You spend a lot of time with him,” Youngjae says.

“I’m his babysitter. I work a lot with his kids. What -- are you jealous?”

Youngjae pauses the game and turns his full attention on Daehyun, and the silence is jarring. “I’m not jealous,” Youngjae says evenly. Daehyun has always admired Youngjae’s ability to keep a level head during conflicts. Daehyun tends to lose it. “I’m worried. About _you_.”

Daehyun flushes, ashamed. “Oh.”

“He’s older,” Youngjae says. “He’s _got kids_ , Daehyunnie. He could take advantage--”

“He needs me,” Daehyun blurts, his skin hot, but Youngjae is quick to answer.

“He doesn’t _need_ you, Daehyun. He’s an adult who hired you to be his babysitter and that’s it. _That’s it._ I just -- don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m not stupid,” Daehyun says, stung. “I know what I’m doing.”

“You’re hyper-fixated on him and avoiding your own problems,” Youngjae retorts. He’s never one to pull punches, and Daehyun visibly flinches. “When’s the last time you really talked to your mom?”

Silence rings in his ears. Daehyun stares at Youngjae and feels _betrayed_. But Youngjae stares back, determined and warm.

“Sorry,” Youngjae says softly, like he’s afraid a loud noise will shatter Daehyun down to his bones.

“I need to go -- out.” Daehyun tosses the pillow to the side and stands shakily. He pulls out his phone from his pocket.

“I’m sorry,” Youngjae says again. “Where are you going?”

“For a drink. I’ll -- ask Insoo-hyung. Just for a bit.”

Youngjae sighs but doesn’t try to stop him. “Okay. I'm sorry. Call me if you need anything, got it?”

Daehyun nods mutely. He’s already by the door again, slipping on his shoes.

.


	18. Chapter 18

“Drinks?” Insoo’s voice on the other end of the call is fuzzy and low. Daehyun checks the time on his phone. It’s late afternoon and he’s probably just woken Insoo up from a nap.

“Yeah, drinks. You wanna?”

“On a _Sunday_?” Insoo asks incredulously. Daehyun can imagine him scratching his head as he shifts around on his bed. “Am I talking to Jung Daehyun? Where’s this coming from, huh? I haven’t spoken to you all summer.”

“I thought -- it’s been a while,” Daehyun mumbles. He turns the corner of the street and starts to head to the bar where he and Insoo used to spend their weekend evenings in college. The amber hues of a long summer sunset are receding and nights are starting to carry the pleasant chill of autumn. He exhales, long and slow, into the phone, and feels the backs of his eyes start to burn.

“All right,” Insoo says. “Just give me fifteen minutes. You still owe me like five drinks from the last time we went out, dude.”

Daehyun laughs, and the burn goes away. “I know. Thanks, hyung.”

.

Three hours later, Insoo has Daehyun draped halfway across his back as they trudge down the hall to Youngjae’s apartment, and Youngjae is answering the door with a look of alarm that turns into fondness on his face.

“He’s fine.” Daehyun hears their conversation but can’t really make heads or tails of it. He’s had too much to drink and his insides are churning and he keeps thinking about Himchan and his mother, Himchan and his mother, until his head is pounding with the racket of his thoughts.

“You’re fine,” he hears Youngjae murmuring. He’s not sure how much time has passed, and Youngjae is scrubbing his face with a wet towel, making him drink clear water out of a glass. “Just breathe.”

“I’m sorry I said you were jealous,” Daehyun slurs, later, when he thinks Youngjae has put them both to bed. Youngjae’s sheets are soft and slightly musty, but his friend is very warm. His head has lessened its pounding like there’s a man inside with a hammer and now feels more like he’s a fish in a bowl and someone is tapping on the glass. He wraps his arms around Youngjae’s waist and feels his friend sigh into his hair.

“ _Shh_.”

The sting returns in his eyes. He takes a breath and it’s too much; it makes him overflow. “I like him,” Daehyun admits with a shuddering breath. “But you’re right -- you’re always right.”

“ _Shh,_ ” Youngjae coaxes again, his hand coming up to cup the back of Daehyun’s head.

He knows he’s drunk. He knows he’s thinking irrationally, and he knows he shouldn’t have had so much. Insoo is Insoo, though, and what he considers a good time has never turned out too well for Daehyun. He’s in a fishbowl and breathing is difficult and every thought feels like the clearest thought he’s ever had in his life.

His mother’s voice rings in his ears. She’d been so calm and distant. “You’re not,” she’d said. “You can’t be.” The look on her face when he’d told her -- he’d expected a flash of anger and confusion and then maybe a slow shift toward understanding, but she’s remained cold throughout, propped up against the headboard of his parents’ bed. There were dark circles under her eyes. Maybe it hadn’t been the right time to come out. She’d just had a fainting scare and a brief stay at the hospital but she’d asked if he was seeing anyone and Daehyun couldn’t keep it in anymore. Her words and her expressions swirl together in his memory and he feels sick.

“My mom thinks I’m disgusting,” Daehyun whispers into Youngjae’s shirt.

Youngjae’s heart pounds hard in his chest under Daehyun’s cheek. He feels Youngjae draw him in even closer.

“She doesn’t,” Youngjae says. “She doesn’t think that at all.”

“You don’t understand--”

“Even if she did, she’d be wrong. She’d be so wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” Daehyun says.

“Just sleep,” Youngjae murmurs. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Youngjae rarely lies to him, so Daehyun closes his eyes and tries to sleep.

.

The next day, Daehyun’s head is still pounding and he remembers why he stopped drinking so much after graduating. Not only is he going to be a professional who works primarily with children but he also just can’t handle his drink very well, as Insoo is usually quick to point out. His mouth feels like someone stuffed it with cotton and his limbs are tingly and heavy on the bed. He opens one eye blearily and spots the painkillers and a glass of water Youngjae has left for him.

With more effort than probably necessary and no one to whine to -- Youngjae has work early in the morning and has been gone for hours -- Daehyun downs the tablets, gets out of bed, and goes to take a shower.

.

His headache has mostly dissipated by the time he picks up the kids from their summer program, but that doesn’t mean the weight of his poor decisions and memories from last night aren’t still making him drag his feet.

Junhong and Jongup seem to sense this and stay quiet on the way home, holding his hands as they walk and matching their steps with his. When they pass through the front door, the kids take their shoes off and, with matching grins, dash quickly into the living room. Daehyun trudges in after them, stifling a yawn.

He watches Jongup fiddle with the television before managing to pull up a movie from a kid-friendly program they haven’t watched before, pronouncing himself too tired to play.

“I want to watch this movie with hyung,” Jongup says sweetly, sinking into the couch cushions. The boy takes Daehyun’s hand and pulls him close to sit next to him, and Junhong climbs up onto the seat at Daehyun’s other side.

“I’ll sit for a little bit,” Daehyun promises, “and then you guys can keep watching while I get dinner ready.”

Junhong leans against Daehyun’s side and snuggles close, and Jongup goes a step further and puts his head down in Daehyun’s lap.

“Shush," Junhong says, "it’s starting.”

.


	19. Chapter 19

The movie is about an abandoned puppy finding a home with a little boy and his family. Normally, Daehyun would be all in for this sort of thing, but today his eyelids are heavy and only grow heavier as the movie goes on and Junhong and Jongup warm up his sides. Thirty minutes into the film, he is asleep.

An hour into the film and unbeknownst to him, the kids curl up beside him and fall asleep also.

.

Sounds from the waking world begin to filter into his subconscious, sparking a strange nostalgia that comes from remembering things you aren’t sure are real: the jingling of keys turning in the lock and the way the doorknob squeaks, soft footsteps growing closer. Shuffle, shuffle, step of someone stepping out of their shoes. Old spice, vanilla, and honey. Daehyun hears someone chuckling in a tenor too low to be his mother’s and tries to roll over to wake himself up, but finds his movement obstructed by a dense weight in his lap. He scrunches up his face before releasing a huge yawn, freezing partway when he hears the click of a camera lens.

“Wha?” he gurgles, opening his eyes finally.

Himchan stands before him in dark slacks and a lilac shirt and smiles at the picture he’s just taken. “Cute,” he says more to himself than to Daehyun, who nonetheless feels a blush flash across his cheeks like a fire takes to dry kindling.

Jongup’s head is in his lap and he’s left a patch of drool on Daehyun’s shorts about the size of a small dinner plate, and Junhong is breathing noisily under his arm, tucked up against his ribs.

“What did you take a picture for?” Daehyun complains, voice scratchy. His headache from his hangover is completely gone, but he feels another one quickly forming out of mortified embarrassment. He’s literally been caught sleeping on the job.

“Blackmail,” Himchan explains readily, tucking his phone into his back pocket. “So I can keep you for perpetuity.” He starts forward but then pauses, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I mean as our babysitter, of course.”

“Of course,” Daehyun says, allowing himself to tease. He feels his lips quirk up in amusement.

Himchan clears his throat, a lovely blush across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

“They must have had a busy day,” he says with a nod at his children. He steps forward again and leans down to pick up Jongup. It puts their faces close together, and Daehyun very consciously avoids admiring the shadowed line of Himchan’s lashes across his cheeks. With a grunt, Himchan hefts Jongup against his chest, and the boy slumps in his father’s arms, still knocked out. “You want to get that cleaned up?”

This time he’s looking at the patch of drool on Daehyun’s shorts.

“Yeah…”

“Go. You can use the bathroom upstairs. There’s a hairdryer in one of the cabinets. I’ll stay with them.”

Daehyun slowly twists away from Junhong so that he can lay the boy gently down onto the cushions without startling him, rewarded with sudden loud snort for his efforts. He stifles laughter that gets caught in his throat anyway when he meets Himchan’s eyes at that exact moment. Himchan grins, and for the first time, Daehyun notices the other man's slightly oversized front teeth. His heart flutters in his ribcage, eager to leave him for the man in his sights.

“I won’t be long,” Daehyun promises as he goes, but Himchan stops him before he makes it to the stairs.

“Do you want to get dinner tonight?”

Daehyun looks back and mirrors the way Himchan is biting his lower lip. He nods before dashing up the stairs, a giddy smile breaking out across his face.

.

Daehyun cleans Jongup’s drool from his pants as best he can, but he can only do so much without feeling awkward about it, so he satisfies himself with wetting the spot and then drying it with the hair dryer Himchan had mentioned. When he skips back down the stairs, Jongup is sitting sleepily at the kitchen table, rubbing his eyes, and Junhong is slithering his way from the couch to the floor, apparently asleep again with his hands on the carpet and his legs still on the cushions.

Daehyun shakes his head at the image, moving slowly toward him. “Junhongie, time to get up.”

“Up,” Junhong parrots, semi-conscious.

“Tsk, where’s your dad, hm?”

“Up,” Junhong says again. He rouses a bit more and straightens himself, blinking owlishly at Daehyun.

Himchan comes down the stairs then, carrying two small hoodies for the kids. “It’s starting to get chilly at night.”

“I didn’t hear you come upstairs,” Daehyun says, taking one of the hoodies wordlessly so he can start to wrestle Junhong into the item of clothing. Himchan does the same with Jongup.

“Must have been when you were drying off.” Himchan shrugs, and they both emerge victorious from their brief battles with the hoodies.

Daehyun smooths down Junhong’s hair as the child pouts on the couch. “I’m hungry,” Junhong says.

“Good thing we’re going to dinner.”

“Hyung’s coming with us?” Junhong asks excitedly, his posture straightening.

“Yup.”

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know. I think Dad had a place in mind.” He looks at Himchan for an answer, and Himchan flashes him another smile.

“There’s a nice place around the corner. Typical Korean fare but very good. I’ve known the owner for a while, now. You up for that?”

“You up for that, Junhongie?” Daehyun finishes smoothing down Junhong’s hair and zips up the front of his hoodie.

Junhong nods, and then he says with a squeak, “I want to wear hyung’s hat!”

“He means the hats you bought for them,” Himchan explains. “Go on, get Jongup’s, too,” he instructs his son.

Junhong scampers off with Jongup in tow, and Himchan begins to walk toward the front door. He opens the closet where there are winter coats hanging on the rack and boots stuffed into the corners. “Did you bring a jacket? I’ve got an old sweater in here -- hold on.”

Daehyun did not bring a sweater or jacket with him, and he really doesn’t need one, but he can’t find it in himself to protest when Himchan emerges with a soft-looking hooded sweater that’s probably two sizes too large for Daehyun with a kittenish smile on his face.

“Here,” Himchan says, coming closer.

He holds it open for Daehyun to slip into, and Daehyun does so wordlessly. Truthfully, the fabric smells a bit old and dusty, but underneath that is a layer of old spice and vanilla that Daehyun has come to associate with Himchan. He warms quickly in the sweater, holding his breath when Himchan starts to zip it up for him.

“It’s okay. I can do it,” he says, watching Himchan’s hands. The sleeves of the jacket drag past his longest fingers. He looks up and meets Himchan’s heated gaze, his next words never making it past his throat.

“The kids like you,” Himchan says slowly, every breath ghosting over Daehyun’s lips.

Daehyun shivers like his body is anticipating a plunge into a freezing lake. He takes a chance and dives. “And you?” he asks.

Himchan’s gaze darts down to where Daehyun’s lips are parted, then back up to his eyes. He exhales, and Daehyun’s eyelids flutter shut.

“Very much,” Himchan murmurs, before he presses a kiss to the corner of Daehyun’s mouth.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuckin finally amirite


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you everyone for your lovely comments on the previous chapter ;A; <333 i'm so happy you all enjoyed it despite the wait!!

The rest of the evening is a whirlwind; Daehyun feels a bit like he’s being taken for a carnival ride, breathless and giddy every time Himchan opens the door for him or touches their fingers together on top of the table at the restaurant or knocks his ankle against his under the table. Their waitress looks between them and smiles and doesn’t comment on the way they’re staring at each other, and Himchan snickers at him over the rim of his glass of water he is sipping. The kids are given crayons out of Daehyun’s backpack to color the paper placemats and amuse themselves.

Maybe the steam from the stews they’ve ordered is getting to his head. They sit in a cloud of fragrant spice, and everything seems touched with a haze that is quite perfect, and his mind keeps jumping back to the innocent kiss by Himchan’s front door, spurring a moment of boyish glee, which Himchan responds to with a touch or a smile, which makes him think of the kiss all over again. A vicious and lovely cycle.

Himchan’s been flashing a smile ever since they left his home, cheeks dimpled and healthy pink. He thinks about the man he met at the beginning of summer and almost can’t reconcile the image with the Himchan before him. Still smartly dressed in pressed slacks and crisp shirts, hair trimmed short and neat. Daehyun’s never seen him with a shadow of facial hair and he’s fairly certain Himchan’s morning routine includes putting concealer under his eyes so that his skin appears dewy and fresh. He looks like the kind of man who would send a waiter back to the kitchen with a steak if it weren’t perfectly medium-rare, all without needing to utter a single word.

Daehyun bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Now that he does know him, he’s fairly certain Himchan would be that kind of man, but he’d also tip generously at the end of the meal. He’s a bit like a lemon meringue pie: outwardly pristine and a bit sharp, but only to hide a fluffy, sweet, and tart interior. Daehyun leans his chin into the heel of his palm and feels his own gaze soften looking at that chiseled face.

Himchan’s really a marshmallow.

“What are you thinking about?” Himchan asks him in that moment, features amused. He quirks an eyebrow.

“You,” Daehyun says, immediately feeling like a sap. His other hand clears a few small dishes out of the way and meets Himchan’s on the table top. Himchan taps his fingers over the back of Daehyun’s hand like he’s playing a piano. “I mean, of when I first met you.”

“What about it?” Himchan probes. His thumb brushes lightly over Daehyun’s skin, and then their fingers are curved together like clasps, Himchan’s thumb playing with the dips of Daehyun’s knuckles. His touch makes Daehyun’s nerves tingle pleasantly, lungs inflating with warm air.

“You were a little frightening,” Daehyun admits sheepishly. “I mean, if you’d told me I was going to be getting dinner with you like this two months into my summer, I would have laughed. And maybe asked if you were going to have me killed right after. You know, like you were taking me out on a last dinner before an execution.”

Himchan’s eyes twinkle in mirth and his fingers stop exploring Daehyun’s hand. He stops himself from pouting.

“And now?” Himchan asks.

“Now...you’re complicated. Like pie.”

This time both of Himchan’s eyebrows raise up high on his forehead. “Pie?”

“You know, lots of layers.”

“I think you mean cake, or an onion,” Himchan mutters.

“Nope,” Daehyun says glibly, “definitely pie. Hard crust but soft on the inside.”

Himchan laughs, crow’s feet appearing around his eyes as his hand tightens around Daehyun’s. Daehyun feels a huge smile spread across his face, watching him.

“You’re probably the only one who thinks that,” Himchan says between huffs of laughter, slowly dying down. “You and Bbang and my wife.”

That single word sobers them quickly, and Daehyun almost pulls away, but Himchan hooks his fingers and holds on, taking a deep breath.

“My first impression of you,” he begins, and it is the first time he’s seen him visibly uncertain, unable to meet Daehyun’s eyes, “was pretty accurate. I knew you’d be good for me.”

Heat rises into his cheeks at Himchan’s smarmy grin following his statement. Daehyun just _knows_ Himchan had been waiting for a chance to say those exact words, but he can’t find any fault with them, especially when they make him feel like he’s back in high school hanging out with his first crush.

.

When dinner is over, Daehyun tells Himchan he thinks he left a book in the living room that he’ll need for class tomorrow. He doesn’t tell him he knows he has all of his books in his backpack. They walk home together with Junhong and Jongup between them, taking turns swings them in between their arms.

Back in the house, Himchan puts on something jazzy and Daehyun pretends to look for his book. The kids help with the hunt, but Himchan makes a game of appearing wherever Daehyun is searching, cheeky grin in place as he comes to understand the situation.

“If you wanted to stay, you could have just asked,” Himchan murmurs when, finally, Daehyun is lingering by the front door. He’d pretended to find the book to Junhong’s and Jongup’s cheers because it was getting late and they needed to wash up.

“But that’s so forward,” Daehyun retorts, grinning like a cat. Himchan swings his body closer, until they are nearly chest to chest in the receiving area.

“So you like to play coy?” Himchan’s face inches toward his, and Daehyun wants to kiss the curve of his lips off of him. His breath hitches when Himchan’s hands come to rest on his waist, the pads of his fingers searing against his sides.

Daehyun thinks back on their first meeting, and wants to laugh again. “Oh, Mr. Kim,” he croons, attempting to be sensual and probably failing, judging by the twitch in Himchan’s lips and the way his nostrils flare. His eyes are dark amber, whisky at the bottom of a barrel, and Daehyun is magenetized. He takes a tiny step forward, the edge of his hip against Himchan’s thigh, and presses his lips against Himchan’s.

Himchan breathes in like a man breaking the surface of a lake, and his hands pull Daehyun forward until Daehyun can feel the metal buckle of Himchan’s belt digging into his lower abdomen. “Daehyun…” Himchan groans when he draws back.

He hears footsteps on the stairs behind them. Daehyun looks up just in time to see Junhong disappear around the corner onto the second floor, followed by a high-pitched shriek. “Daddy kissed hyung!”

Himchan sighs, and right now Daehyun can’t do anything other than smile bright and uninhibited. “I better go see that they’re okay,” Himchan whispers. He wraps his arms around Daehyun’s shoulders in a tight, warm hug.

Daehyun feels drunk off of him, swaying when Himchan releases him. “Okay,” he says agreeably.

Before he closes the door, Himchan darts forward again to place a quick kiss on Daehyun’s cheek, wishing him a good night. Daehyun leaves with Himchan’s sweater around his shoulders, reeling from happiness.

.


	21. Chapter 21

Youngjae is sitting up in the living room when he gets back, frowning over a text book with a highlighter stuck between his lips. The television is hooked up to some program that’s playing a series they’ve watched together before, playing softly in the background.

Daehyun swoops inside like a summer breeze, light and airy and smiling with the force of a white sun on a clear day. He kicks off his shoes, feeling like there are wings on his feet.

“Himchan kissed me,” he announces dreamily, throwing his bag onto the couch and following after it, leaning on Youngjae’s shoulder and exhaling happily. “We kissed.”

Youngjae says, “Isn’t that something,” carefully neutral, and Daehyun resolutely does not let it bother him. They are friends and Youngjae is worried about him and Daehyun gets that, but he’s going to take this moment of happiness and run with it for as long as he can.

.

Evenings spent at Himchan’s take on a different atmosphere altogether. They sit down at dinner and Himchan touches their ankles together under the table, is easy with his compliments and free with his smiles. They sit and they eat and Daehyun thrums with anticipation when they stand side by side at the sink, washing dishes and putting them away, having the children clean the table; they fall into rhythm and it is a dance between the two, their steps light around each other and embellished by the brush of Himchan’s fingers over his waist or Himchan’s hot palm over his backside.

The barrier keeping them apart has broken, and now Himchan can’t seem to get enough of him.

What begins as sweet, lingering kisses by his front door when the kids are upstairs getting ready for their baths quickly escalates into something that leaves Daehyun dizzy when he leaves, desperately wishing for a cold shower. He dreams of Himchan’s mouth on him, his kisses hot and searing, and he blushes red on the train ride home when he remembers how Himchan had held his face in his hands and commanded control over him and how he’d liked it, liked feeling Himchan’s thumb press against his jawline, liked Himchan nipping playfully at his full bottom lip.

He likes the way Himchan looks at him,eyes dark and full of promise, scanning him from head to toe and completely throughout, and he marvels at this spark of physicality between them that has kindled their intimacy with astonishing speed. He’s always enjoyed looking at the older man and admiring the way he filled out his clean shirts and ironed slacks, and it thrills him to know Himchan is taking his fill of him, as well.

They kiss by the front door or sometimes in the kitchen, hands soapy. Once, Daehyun splashes Himchan with water from the faucet and Himchan retaliates by drizzling ice from the freezer down the back of his shirt, Daehyun yelping as they bring their play-fight into the living room, tripping over the kids who quickly join their father’s efforts to tackle Daehyun to the floor. There, Himchan can drag the ice over Daehyun’s bare belly, laughing when he twitches and gasps.

“Mercy!” Daehyun shouts, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes as the trail of ice becomes Himchan’s fingers, tickling his sides. “I give! You win.”

“I don’t know,” Himchan teases. “I like you like this.”

.

Thursday evening, before Daehyun goes, Himchan brushes his fingers across Daehyun’s forehead, pushing a stray lock of hair behind his ear, and says, “Stay over tomorrow night.”

“Yeah?” Daehyun asks before he can really process it, his mouth working on autopilot. “You want me to?”

“It’s the weekend,” Himchan explains, his eyes soft and his lips curved every so slightly. His features have taken on a healthy, full glow over the past few weeks. “We can take the kids out, and it’ll be late when we get back. What do you think?”

“I think that’d be nice,” Daehyun murmurs, edging closer to Himchan in the receiving area. Himchan pecks him on the lips, grinning, and Daehyun blinks against the sudden movement.

“Good,” Himchan says.

When he gets home, he realizes what he’s just agreed to, and tries not to freak out.

“So you’re nervous,” Youngjae says flatly, following Daehyun’s pacing as he packs. It’s only one night, but he can’t possibly show up at Himchan’s wearing his Batman briefs. Black is always sexy, though, right?

“I’m not nervous,” Daehyun says, comparing one pair of briefs to another in the dim light of Youngjae’s living room. He’s been living out of a couple of suitcases for the summer because he never bothered to unpack, and now he’s realizing just how frumpy some of his clothes look. “Just -- Himchan’s older and more experienced and -- he’s so put-together, Youngjae. What if I mess up? What if he decides he doesn’t like me, after all?”

“If he decides he doesn’t like you after one night with you then he’s shallow and a jerk and you deserve better, and I get to say, ‘I told you so,’” Youngjae tells him snobbishly. He sighs after, shoulders slumping a little. “But seriously, if he’s as great as you keep saying, you shouldn’t have anything to worry about, right? And he’d get it if you told you him you didn’t want to do anything, right?”

“Yeah,” Daehyun says dismissively. “Okay, this, or this?” He turns for Youngjae to gauge his choices.

“Those are the same pair of underwear, Daehyun.”

“They’re different!” Daehyun very nearly screeches, clamping his mouth shut and breathing in deeply through his nose for a few seconds to calm himself. “Okay, maybe I’m a little nervous.”

“The one on the left,” Youngjae says, pointing. “It rises a little higher at the tops of your thighs.” When Daehyun gives him a searching, suspicious look, Youngjae blushes. “I’m your best friend and bosom buddy. I’ve seen you in your underwear more times than I’ve seen Eunji in hers.”

.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you everyone for your wonderful comments on the last chapter ;A; hope you enjoy <333

Himchan does this thing with his hands where he dances his fingers across the small of Daehyun’s back, covering the distance of his narrow waist as they walk down the street in the waning gold light of a summer day, and then he retreats with a grin when Daehyun steals a glance at him, teasing, holding his hands up like a man trying to proclaim his innocence. The kids skip in front of them, holding hands so they don’t lose each other, excited about going out to the movies together. Daehyun and Himchan's hips knock together as they walk. Daehyun watches Junhong and Jongup navigate a huge crack in the sidewalk and it brings an equally huge smile to his face.

Himchan slides his hand across the small of Daehyun’s back, and this time Daehyun presses himself right up against his side, curving his arm around Himchan’s back and squeezing to keep him close. “Stop that,” he quips, grinning.

Himchan sighs, putting on long-suffering airs. “Guess you caught me.”

“Sap,” Daehyun accuses.

“I prefer the term ‘romantic.’”

“I don’t know if that’s the word I would use…” Daehyun says, turning his face up towards Himchan’s. The older man wraps his arm around Daehyun, smiling softly. His hand inches up to the waistband of his shorts underneath his t-shirt, and Daehyun inhales, quick and surprised, when Himchan’s thumb hooks into the elastic of his briefs and his nail scratches against naked skin.

“How about ‘opportunistic’?” Himchan asks in a husky whisper, his breath hot against the shell of Daehyun’s ear.

“No, I definitely prefer ‘romantic’ to that.” Daehyun turns to graze his lips over Himchan’s, a feather-light kiss that makes his fingertips tingle.

The kids get to pick the movie.

The movie is torture.

Not because of the content -- Daehyun has long-since come to terms with his at-times embarrassing appreciation of children’s movies -- but because sitting next to Himchan without being able to kiss him the way he wants to wreaks havoc on his brain activity.

Himchan brings the armrest up so that they can sit together with Daehyun tucked under one of his arms, his broad hand coming to rest on the round muscle of Daehyun’s shoulders. He strokes his thumb back and forth over the fabric of Daehyun’s shirt, sometimes applying pressure, and it drives Daehyun crazy.

The kids sit next to him, happily munching on popcorn and stage-whispering comments to each other when something exciting happens on screen. Himchan keeps petting him and humming and Daehyun can hear the steady beat of Himchan’s heart in his chest, matching his own. He wants to reach up and bring Himchan’s face down to meet his and kiss him until they both run out of air--

But they’re in public in the back of a movie theater and, if the kids weren’t sitting right next to him, it would all be very high school.

Daehyun contents himself with taking Himchan’s other hand and threading their fingers together, bringing their hands down to rest in his lap. Himchan’s knuckles are rough, and the pads of his fingertips calloused. The back of his hand is smooth and pale and Himchan’s fingers are all longer than Daehyun’s by the length of a fingernail.

Himchan chuckles, breathy and low, and when Daehyun looks up at him in question, the lights from the screen flashing across his face, Himchan brings their joined hands up in front of him and kisses Daehyun’s knuckles.

.

Dinner follows the movie, and after that, getting back home, helping the kids wash up, and tucking them in. When finally Daehyun has five minutes to himself, his jitters return and bring him into the guest bedroom, where he changes into his pajamas and stands with his arms folded across his chest, staring at the bed.

He’s tired after the day they had, of wrestling with the constant desire thrumming right under his skin, and hugs himself a little tighter remembering Himchan’s smoldering glances at him over dinner, during the movie, and on the walk home. Those glances meant something, were a promise, but for a moment, doubt creeps in from the edges.

What if Youngjae’s reservations about Himchan prove true? What if he’s throwing himself into a relationship while the older man is simply making use of what’s being offered to him? _Opportunistic,_ Daehyun remembers, and the word echoes in his mind. He frowns, digging his toes into the area rug, when the door creaks open behind him.

“Hey,” Himchan says, his voice like smoke, “what are you doing in here?”

“Um,” Daehyun says, turning. He tries to figure out what to do with his arms and hands, but just ends up holding them stiffly at his sides.

“Unless you were thinking about...sleeping in here tonight?” Himchan’s hand lingers on the doorknob, one elegant eyebrow arched high in his forehead. His lips are pursed and Daehyun fidgets.

“I just,” Daehyun begins, nerves compounding. “The kids are next door,” he reasons, “and I -- well, I --”

Himchan comes into the room and seems to fill up the space completely. Daehyun sighs when Himchan slowly wraps his arms around him and holds him against his chest, relaxing. “We won’t do anything you don’t want to,” Himchan says. “But I would really like to sleep next to you tonight, if that’s okay.”

Daehyun nods, a sound caught in the back of his throat. He exhales, and the doubts rush out of him at the same time. He _knows_ Himchan. “I’m just being stupid.”

“You’re not.”

Himchan pulls back to kiss his forehead, Daehyun’s eyelids fluttering shut at the soft touch. Together, they walk to Himchan’s bedroom and slip under the covers next to each other on his bed.

.

Daehyun comes awake with the sensation of being smothered by a friendly, heavy marshmallow, only to open his eyes and see Himchan’s nose up close and personal, his breath tickling Daehyun’s cheek and faintly stale. He’s wrapped up first by Himchan’s legs tangled with his own and next by the duvet which has made a cocoon around his body, completely bypassing Himchan and rendering Daehyun immobile.

He also finds he doesn’t really mind, and lets himself drift back into half-sleep, watching the slight shiver of Himchan’s lashes every time he takes a breath.

Then, there’s an avalanche.

Daehyun whines, and the avalanche clears in his mind to become the heavy footfalls of a child running barefoot down the hall. He realizes the situation just as it happens, jolting awake again as the door slams open.

Junhong calls, “Daddy! It’s _breakfast time!_ ”

This is followed by a running leap onto the mattress, which squeaks dangerously (though that high-pitched squeal might have been Daehyun), and then Junhong attempting to burrow under the covers. Jongup follows quickly, though without as much enthusiasm.

Daehyun freezes, hoping to blend into his surroundings, but Himchan grumbles and somehow manages to wrestle the duvet from him to wrap himself in its warmth.

“Traitor,” Daehyun says under his breath.

At least he had the mind to put his briefs back on after the events of the evening, even though he’s pretty sure the t-shirt he’s wearing is Himchan’s.

“Hyung? What are you doing here?” Jongup asks, laying across the bed. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“Um,” Daehyun says. “Yeah…”

Junhong chirps, climbing into Daehyun’s lap, “Hyung had a nightmare so he came to sleep with Daddy. Cute!”

Daehyun blushes, unable to form a response. Himchan smacks his lips and finally begins to wake, hands blindly reaching for the things that are making noise: his children.

“It’s breakfast time,” Junhong whispers loudly in Himchan’s ear, only to be shoved away. Junhong shrieks, laughing, as he’s felled on the bed.

“Ask hyung,” Himchan mumbles. “Who had a nightmare. Heh.”

“Don’t be gross,” Daehyun says, sitting up fully so he can smack Himchan in the face with a pillow. This, of course, gives the kids free reign to start smacking their father with pillows, which expedites Himchan’s waking-up process exponentially.

“I don’t know _what_ you’re implying,” Himchan teases, letting himself be pummeled by the soft pillows. He grins and suddenly launches himself at Daehyun, planting a messy, loud kiss on his lips when he pushes him back down onto the bed.

“Breakfast!” Junhong reminds them. He gives up on the pillows and slides off the bed, stomping his feet as he runs in place.

“Okay, okay,” Himchan says. “Fine, let’s make breakfast.”

He sneaks another quick kiss, though, before they all go to the kitchen together.

.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all of your comments on the last chapter *_*
> 
> ah it seems many of you want to know if they did the Thing so i'll just say they did not do the full Thing but probably what you would consider three-fourths of the Thing but anyway it would be easier to explain in another part. i was planning on adding a short chapter after this is finished just going into that evening's details....to keep this part unrated. >.>
> 
> anyway yes thank you everyone i love you all

There are three weeks left of the summer term before a week recess between the beginning of the university’s fall semester, and Daehyun is reminded of those tunnel boat rides at fairs and amusement parks, where a lazy current draws you through a carved path full of picturesque scenes and sometimes surprises, where it is all right, in the dark, to sidle up close to your seat partner for company in the unknown. The moment you emerge into the sun, you pull apart, embarrassed to be caught, keeping an arm’s length between each other for the rest of the day. Daehyun’s only been on one of those things once -- his playground in the summer had always been the beach and the ocean -- so he thinks maybe his idea of them is skewed, but he can’t help but feel like Himchan is taking him for a ride.

They’ve only just started so it seems silly to bring up the end, but they haven’t talked about the end of summer, what will happen after, what will happen after they emerge from this tunnel. It’s all very fun and lovely inside, right now, navigating the curves and bends together, but that’s the beauty of a summer fling, isn’t it? An intense three months crammed full of flirting and firsts and spontaneity, love and love and love, and then it’s over, the heat of summer is gone, and cold hard reality takes its place.

Daehyun sighs, shifting his head a bit lower on Himchan’s chest, hoping the steady rise and fall of it will lull him back to sleep. It’s so early in the morning that the sun hasn’t even risen past the horizon, but he’d been awakened by the heavy patter of rain against the windows, wind forcing the drops hard against the glass in waves as a summer storm raged above them.

Thunder rumbles, followed quickly by a flash of lightning. Daehyun squeezes his eyes tightly shut and fists Himchan’s soft shirt in his hand, curling up against the older man.

He hears a low chuckle as Himchan draws his arm around him, turning in bed so that they are chest to chest. “You’re worse than the kids,” Himchan murmurs sleepily.

“I’m not _scared_ of thunder,” Daehyun says defensively, even though Himchan had said nothing of the sort, but he lets Himchan tangle their legs together under the covers. “I’m just not very fond of storms, in general. Natural disasters are scary.”

“I’d hardly call this a natural disaster,” Himchan says with a laugh.

“ _You’re_ a natural disaster,” Daehyun bites back.

Himchan squeezes him affectionately. “That’s a cute comeback.”

Daehyun lets the comment pass without a response, absent-mindedly stroking his hand up and down Himchan’s chest, finding comfort in his warmth. The storm has brought an uncharacteristic summer chill; fall is really just around the corner.

“What were you like as a kid?” Himchan asks him, his voice sounding very far away. He’s directing his question to the ceiling. Daehyun ducks his face into Himchan’s collarbone and kisses the dip of his clavicle.

“Loud,” Daehyun says. “Impatient. Stubborn. I didn’t like studying much.”

“And now you’re studying to be a teacher, huh.”

“Someone’s gotta look out for the kids like me.”

Himchan’s fingers scratch behind his ear, sending pleasant tingles all across his scalp and down his back. He sighs.

“I wasn’t like that at all -- I was a model student. President of two clubs. Almost always top of the class--”

“Okay, Mr. Hotshot,” Daehyun teases. “What happened to you, then?”

Himchan tweaks his earlobe, and Daehyun twitches against him, biting his lips to keep from laughing. “I got married young,” Himchan says. “Sohee was amazing, but we got married young. That’s all.”

The laugh dies in the pit of his stomach and turns into lead. Daehyun really doesn’t mind it when Himchan talks about his late wife, but this time it hits him hard: how different they are from each other.

“What’s wrong?” Himchan asks, fingers carding through Daehyun’s hair.

“Nothing,” Daehyun mumbles.

Himchan’s fingers stop, and next his knuckles are under Daehyun’s chin, gently raising his face to meet his eyes. “Please tell me.” Himchan is wearing his soft black tank to sleep and he smells of old spice and vanilla and his little stud earring glistens when the lightning flashes behind him. He is wonderful and Daehyun thinks he’s come so far from the severe, isolated man he met at the beginning of summer.

“I’ve just been thinking a lot about us,” Daehyun says without making eye contact, feeling foolish for the lump forming in his throat that means his eyes will start to water any moment now. Quickly, he ducks his face again against Himchan’s chest, grateful when Himchan lets him.

“Oh,” Himchan breathes out. He doesn’t ask anything else. The silence draws out for a while, only broken by the drizzle of the rain outside. When Daehyun looks up again, Himchan is asleep, lips slightly parted and exhaling noisily.

An hour has passed. Daehyun slides out from under his arm to start on breakfast. The storm breaks.

.

Two weeks left of summer and there is a strange, neutral distance between them, and Daehyun knows exactly how it got there but has no idea how to fix it. He can’t take back what he said. To someone looking in, there has been been no change, but to Daehyun, he feels the rift between them growing like a canyon, and he’s unsure if his footing will remain fast on either side or if he’s just going to plummet into its depths.

He caused this.

Himchan kisses him at the door or at the kitchen counter or in his living room but there is something missing from his kisses now, some central warmth that Daehyun had clung to like a pillar. Daehyun glances up after they kiss and Himchan’s eyes are looking far away.

Thinking.

Distracted.

He cups Himchan’s cheek with his palm and tilts their faces together before he goes, worried. Worried they’re dragging this out.

Summer is almost over.

Two weeks left of summer and he makes it back to Youngjae’s, throwing himself onto the couch he’s called home for the past few months, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about what life would be like without Himchan. Without the kids.

He should call him. Talk to him. Tell him he didn’t mean whatever he said. He’d been too serious, and maybe Himchan didn’t want serious. Maybe Himchan wanted something casual to ease him back into the world of dating. Maybe Himchan wanted something convenient. Maybe Himchan didn’t want to assign any permanence to them, like Daehyun did. He doesn’t know.

He digs his phone out of his back pocket and stares at the screen. Taking a deep breath, he pulls up his contacts just as the screen changes to indicate an incoming call.

It’s his dad.

“Hey,” he says, answering immediately.

It takes a moment for his father to respond, and when he does, Daehyun’s blood freezes in his veins.

“Daehyun-ah,” his father’s thick, accented voice comes through the speakers shakily, “We’re at the hospital. Your mom collapsed.”

.


	24. Chapter 24

Himchan answers on the third ring, groggy and confused, stifling a yawn as his voice scratches into the receiver: “Hello?”

It’s four o’clock in the morning, and Daehyun is watching the countryside go by through the window of South Korea’s high-speed train connecting Seoul and Busan. He’d spent the hours after his father’s call frantically arranging: emailing his professors and his advisor, packing, buying his tickets, pacing as Youngjae watched. His father will pick him up when he arrives. They’ll go home, and then they’ll go to the hospital.

“Sorry,” he whispers. The night outside is almost metallic. “Sorry -- I know it’s the middle of the night. I’m -- I need a couple of days off.”

Himchan grunts, moving on the bed. He hears something click -- the light. “What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

“No,” Daehyun says truthfully, and he feels his lower lip wobble. He sinks down in his seat, curled into his knees, and his heart shudders to the rhythm of the train. “I’m going home. My mom’s in the hospital.”

“To Busan? The hospital? Oh my god, what happened?”

Daehyun wants to answer, but suddenly his throat is closing and his vision blurring. He imagines that his last real interaction he'll ever have with his mother was a stupid, hurtful fight and can’t forgive himself for the juvenile silent-treatment he’d given her, after. Crying is useless, but he does it anyway, his chest caving in on itself.

“Hey,” Himchan says gently, “hey, it’s going to be okay--”

“I’ve been an idiot,” Daehyun says miserably.

“I’m sure you haven’t,” Himchan counters. “How much longer until you arrive?”

“Dunno. An hour.”

“Do you want to stay on the phone?”

Daehyun scrubs at his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie, feeling very much like a child. “I should let you go back to sleep.” His sleeve comes away wet. He sniffs.

“It’s fine,” Himchan assures him. “Whatever you want.”

“I’ll let you go,” Daehyun decides.

Himchan doesn’t say anything for a moment as Daehyun’s tears dry up. The older man sighs. “I’m just a phone call away. Let me know when you get there, okay?”

“Okay,” Daehyun says, nodding. The land doesn’t change past the windows. This part of South Korea is flat and constant, predictable. “Himchan?”

“Yeah?”

“I -- I love you.” He squeezes his eyes shut as blood pounds in his ears at the admission, though to him it sounded more like a plea. His cheeks heat up even though there is no one here to witness it. Hastily, he adds, “I’m not asking you to say it back.”

Someone is holding his heart in their palm like a paper origami ball, fingers crushing in the sides. He waits without breathing.

Then, Himchan says, “Oh, Daehyun," and closes his fist.

.


	25. Chapter 25

The drive back to their place is mostly silent, his father fiddling with the knobs on the ancient radio, unable to find a station without static. Finally, he turns it off completely, and then it’s just the hum of the engine and a rhythmic clicking noise coming from the vicinity of the right tire that his father insists is not a problem as they pull off the freeway and down quieter, narrower streets.

A left turn here and a right turn there. They pass the park Daehyun used to play in as a child and the library with its slightly caved in roof and Daehyun remembers spending afternoon after afternoon there as a child; there’d been a free tutoring program for elementary and middle school students that hadn’t so much provided tutoring as a place for families to keep their kids out of trouble. He feels a stirring in his heart as the library dips out of view. One of his tutors had wanted to be a teacher, and as they spent more time together, Daehyun thought she was the coolest, nicest, smartest and most charming person in the world. His dream of becoming a teacher had started there, too.

They pull into the shared garage and his father puts the car into park and turns off the engine, but it still putters for a couple of moments as it cools. Daehyun hugs his backpack to his chest, shoulders stiff, feeling like he hasn’t blinked this entire ride. His dad says, in his scratchy accented drawl, “Go on and settle in. There’s a bit leftover from breakfast. You must be hungry; eat first and then we’ll go.”

 _To the hospital_ , Daehyun’s mind supplies for him. He swallows and nods and blindly reaches for the handle, grimacing at the creaking hinges when he pushes open the door.

His father doesn’t get out immediately after him. Before he enters, he looks back and sees him sitting in the driver’s seat, still, hands on the wheel and staring at nothing. He looks tired, Daehyun thinks, and it strikes him that his father is getting old. Older.

The apartment has not changed. It’s still tiny and smells slightly musty and fishy from all the stews his mother likes to cook, with low ceilings and mismatched furniture that is too lumpy to be quirky. They live above the shop and pay extra for the garage, and the family above them are an older couple whose only son has moved to the States, occasionally visiting and more often sending them money. Sometimes, they would join the Jungs for dinner. Daehyun never met their son.

On the little collapsible table in the living room are the leftovers from breakfast that his father promised for him -- rice and roasted seaweed and a couple of fried eggs -- but he bypasses the food to go to his room to put away his things.

Daehyun grew up having to fold his futon away every morning before school, his room so small he was sure it used to be a closet. He never minded. He kept it clean and organized and liked having the little private space to himself, away from his at-times overbearing older brother and nagging parents. In high school it had started to feel too cramped, but he’d consoled himself by putting up posters of his favorite musicians and images of the beach, which was no more than a half-hour’s walk away. Now, some of the posters are peeling away from the walls, and there is a fine layer of dust over his books in one corner, but his father had taken out his futon for him and set him up the best way he knew how, and Daehyun sits on the futon and hugs his knees to his chest and takes a huge, shaky breath to keep the swell of emotion in his lungs at bay.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” His father peeks in through the door, frowning when he sees Daehyun sitting in the center of his room. “The food is cold but it still tastes good. You had a long trip.”

“I’m scared to go see her,” Daehyun admits in a tiny voice, feeling like a child again after a harsh scolding, waiting for his brother to come into his room and tell him he was being a baby. He wants his mother to come in after, when he’s settled, to tell him everything will be okay.

His father sighs, twisting the doorknob in his hands before taking a step into the room. He doesn’t sit, but he takes Daehyun’s backpack from him and puts it into a corner.

“She’ll be happy to see you,” he says. “So happy.”

Daehyun doesn’t call Himchan. It’s a near thing, but his ears grow hot and his vision blurry when he thinks about him, about what he told him, and about Himchan’s non-answer. Instead, he texts him quickly and puts his phone away after. Besides, he’ll be going to the hospital soon, and the rules are _no cell phones_ , so it’s not like he’s allowed to check it to see if Himchan will respond.

.

The hospital is not foreign to him. He’d been in and out of its doors often as a child, accompanying his parents on their visits. His mother needed to eat healthier, is all that he got out of these visits. When he became older, he understood she had high blood pressure, and high cholesterol levels -- high everything, it seemed, and that she needed to take care of herself better to lower her risks for complications. She stopped smoking, started eating more fish, but it was a late start to a lifetime of unhealthy habits.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” his father is saying as they walk down the hall, past all the uniform rooms filled with patients. His mother is in one of these rooms, recovering from a heart attack.

“I don’t know,” Daehyun says, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He stalls outside of door 3C-28, biting his lips, considering.

“I’ll be right out here,” his father promises when he thinks Daehyun has lingered for too long, nudging him a little to get him through the door. Daehyun nods, knocks, thinks better of it, and enters.

His mother is awake.

She sits propped against the huge pillows in a hospital gown that swallows her tiny frame and smiles large and unrestrained when she sees Daehyun, arms coming up immediately. There’s a vase filled with an arrangement of blossoms on the table next to her bed. “Daehyun-ah, Daehyun-ah, come here.”

Her voice is hoarse and thin and Daehyun blinks back tears and strides forward, heart caught in his throat, and says, choked, “I’m sorry. I didn’t bring you any flowers.”

“Little one,” she says, her arms strong around him as Daehyun folds himself over her, careful not to smother her. His knees hit the floor and he finds himself hugging her waist, his face wet. “Your hyung already brought me flowers. I just wanted to see you.”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry i keep adjusting the chapter count sheesh
> 
> thanks so much to everyone who is sticking with this and and made it this far omg i love you


	26. Chapter 26

Back when Daehyun had been in middle school, he’d wanted to be a comic book artist. He’d drawn all the time, over every flat surface he could find, going through reams of stolen paper from the printer at the library and drying out boxes of pens, and when he told his mother his dream she said, “You’re young. You don’t know how hard it is to make money in that line of work. This dream will change,” and that had been that. She’d gone back to chopping vegetables at the kitchen counter and the _thunk, thunk, thunk_ of the knife sounded like a guillotine.

Crushed and angry, he’d ignored his mother’s attempts to apologize for a week, holing himself up in his closet-room or staying out until he was nearly past curfew, before getting sick of holding the grudge and joining his family at dinner, nonchalantly helping his mother scoop rice into everyone’s bowls. She’d ruffled his hair. “Sheesh, you had me worried,” she said. “I only want you to have a good life, and I didn’t think about how it would sound when I said that. We’re alike in that way, Daehyun-ah. We have to be careful of the things we say.”

Daehyun had bobbed his head in a nod and shoveled rice in his mouth.

This time it feels much heavier, like a weight dragging him down to the bottom of a lake. It hasn’t been a week; it’s been months. He’d ignored her like a petty child while she tried to maintain her health and the guilt nearly suffocates him. What if she hadn’t been brought to the hospital in time? What if the last thing she felt from him was his cold shoulder? His disregard?

“Daehyun-ah, my son, what’s wrong?” she says in a thin, raspy voice.

A pall has been draped over him. He can’t lift his face from his mother’s lap, and he feels her fingers carding through his hair in an effort to calm him, when he should be the one caring for her. Another notch of guilt. “ _I’m sorry_ ,” he cries, fat tears dribble down his cheeks and onto the thin hospital blanket covering her legs. It’s everything all at once, which is the only way he knows how to feel. Anger and sadness and love -- it all roils underneath the surface of him, called forth by a tipping point, and then it’s a fierce storm he can barely navigate. Himchan's face suddenly appears in his mind, and he wishes he were here to soothe him. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

“For everything. For ignoring you.” His breath wobbles and swallowing is difficult. He’d been a fool and a coward and his mother is precious. “For being a bad son. For not being -- what you wanted me to be--”

“What’s this about, hm?” She tucks a lock of his hair behind his ear and then guides his face up with a gentle finger. He sniffs, eyes red and shame blotching his skin. “I’m sorry, too,” she says firmly.

Daehyun feels his chest expand like he is breathing in air for the first time. A fresh wave of emotion crashes over him and his face crumples in an attempt to keep everything from spilling over, but his mother holds his cheeks in her hands and shushes him like she’d done when he was six and fell from the top of the slide.

“I was being stubborn,” she continues, and her voice is thick and wavering, “We both were, but you’re my son after all, and I love you, and I want you to be happy. To be able to be happy.”

“I will be,” Daehyun promises with a sob, "I can be. Ma, are you going to be okay?”

“Yes, I will be fine.” Little tremors run up and down Daehyun’s spine, his crying dying down but still sensitive. “I’ll be fine. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Daehyun tells her. He makes himself rise, his knees sore, to sit in the visitor’s chair, still holding onto her hand. It’s been so long since he’s seen her, and her hand feels less substantial than before. It worries him, but she insists she is okay. She will make a full recovery.

She sits up a little higher on the bed and adjusts the vase of flowers on the stand, smiling softly. “Now,” she says, “tell me what you’ve been up to.”

.


	27. Chapter 27

Time passes faster on the way back, his hometown disappearing behind him and the landscape softening to rolling rises and falls, fields interspersed by patches of houses. His mother will make a full recovery and his father told him to go back to school to finish the semester. He almost told his mother about Himchan. Almost.

They’d made strides, but she wasn’t ready to hear about him. Or maybe he wasn’t ready to tell. Maybe there isn’t anything to tell, anyway.

A song comes on that is sung in English, and his thumb hovers over the ‘next’ button on the screen of his phone. The song is smooth and laid-back -- late afternoons spent people-watching in a cafe. Himchan had gotten the album from Yongguk, and they’d listened to the whole thing one night, buzzing from wine and exhausted from spending a day out with the kids, the jazzy beats washing over them as they laid side-by-side in Himchan’s bed. It’s a good memory; he’d woken up on Himchan’s chest, rested and warm and looking forward to what the day would bring them.

He hits ‘next’ and settles back into the hard seats, working his lower lip between his teeth. He’s been gone for three days, and in those three days he managed to speak to Himchan not even once, unsure how to start up conversation after dropping such a heavy sentence onto the other like a bomb that was about to go off. Unsure even if Himchan wanted to speak to him at all.

Daehyun lets his forehead fall against the cool glass of the window, hoping the light impact will jar his thoughts into order, wondering if he should reach out to Himchan first, if only to start the process of breaking it off with him. Himchan obviously didn’t feel the same for him, and was trying to come up with the best way to break it to him. Isn’t that what this silence means, and aren’t they just drawing it out?

But the thought of calling or texting him only to be met with uncertainty or indifference makes him cringe and squeeze his arms around himself tighter. If only he hadn’t opened his big mouth. His mother was right -- they were alike and needed to be careful about the things they said.

He stares at his phone, then at Himchan’s number, then at his lockscreen. He sighs, fiddling with the buttons on the side, and then he nearly drops his phone to the train floor when it begins to vibrate in his hand, Himchan’s face appearing on the screen.

Fumbling for a moment, he manages to answer with a squeak: “Hello?”

“Daehyun?”

Just his voice is enough to make Daehyun’s shoulders relax from being held tight and high near his ears for the past few days, for him to sink back into his seat and exhale. Himchan’s voice is gritty like smoke, but just as warm.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” Himchan says.

The pregnant pause is excruciating. Daehyun is just about to fill it when Himchan speaks up.

“How are you? How’s your family? Must be nice being back home, huh?”

He sounds tired. Daehyun hopes he’s been sleeping well, that Junhong and Jongup haven’t been giving him the run around.

“I’m okay. They’re okay. My mom will be okay. I’m actually -- coming back to Seoul, now. I’m on the train.”

“Oh,” Himchan says, all his disappointment apparent in that single breath. Daehyun squeezes his eyes shut and hopes he doesn’t say something debilitating and logical like, _and you weren’t going to tell me?_ because he doesn’t know how he’d answer that. But all Himchan says is, “That’s good,” which is almost worse.

“Himchan--”

“Would you be up for coming by this week? In the evening.”

“Tomorrow,” Daehyun offers eagerly before his brain thinks about it. He lets his forehead fall back onto the glass, cursing himself.

“Tomorrow would be great,” Himchan says. He sighs. His breath rattles. Daehyun has missed him. “Six?”

“Six is good,” Daehyun says.

“Great,” Himchan says. “Great.”

Youngjae is there at the station to receive him when he pulls into Seoul, and they both go back together. He leans his head against his shoulder on the way home, another train, and Youngjae loops his arm around his waist, pulls him in close. “Everything’s gonna be okay,” his friend promises.

.

Daehyun sits through class the next day like a zombie, thoughts crowded by Himchan. His professor has to remind him to pack up when it’s over, and Daehyun excuses himself, blushing and embarrassed, tripping over his shoes to leave before the next class rushes in. He goes to Himchan’s place on autopilot, almost stopping by the summer school to pick up the kids when he remembers it’s too late for that, and that they’re likely already home.

He rings the doorbell because it feels wrong to use a key, but when Junhong opens the door for him and gazes up at him with a huge smile on his face, he feels foolish. Junhong clings to his legs until Daehyun gives in and picks him up, and together they go through the threshold into their home.

The first thing he notices is the smoke clinging to the ceiling of the first floor, thin and almost shimmering, but making his eyes water.

“Himchan?” he calls out worriedly, but Junhong only giggles, coughing lightly.

“We opened all the windows,” Junhong says. “Daddy can’t cook!”

They find Jongup upside-down on the couch, head hanging over the cushions as he gazes through the smoke with sharp eyes. “I think I see a bunny,” he says, before he notices Daehyun’s arrival. “Hyung!”

He scrambles over to him, and Daehyun is genuinely surprised he doesn’t break his neck in the process, but then Jongup’s hugging his knees and he says, “We missed you!” and Daehyun’s eyes start watering for reasons he can’t attribute to the smoke.

“I missed you, too,” he says quietly, guiding them all back to the couch. He hugs them both and plops them down onto the cushions before taking a magazine he finds on the coffee table in hand and walking towards the kitchen.

Himchan is there, his back facing him, trying to manage a couple of pots and pans on the range at once, the smoke thickest here. Daehyun reaches up to fan underneath the smoke detector near the stove range, because he has a sixth sense about these things and _knows_ it was just about to go off.

“I’ve got this,” Himchan assures him, barely giving him a glance. “It’s completely under control.”

Something pops and crackles in one of the pans, and Daehyun cranes his neck to look over Himchan’s shoulder and finds the charred remains of some sort of meat dish like a blackened brick in the center. “Sure,” he says.

“I’d only stepped away for a moment,” Himchan assures him.

“I don’t mind take-out.”

They glance at each other then, and Himchan clicks off the burners, eyebrows furrowed. Daehyun doesn’t like the look of it, and wants very badly to smooth his fingers over the creased skin and kiss him there, but he isn’t sure if he's allowed, and so the crease stays.

“I wanted to make you dinner,” Himchan says, leaning back against the counter.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” Himchan says, like the words are being pulled out of him. “But I wanted to.”

Daehyun puts the magazine on the counter and then stands with his arms crossed, unsure what he’s meant to be doing. Himchan’s sharp features can be both beautiful and imposing, but right now they are making him nervous, because he can’t read him. Himchan looks past Daehyun’s shoulder to where the kids are watching television in the living room, and then his gaze returns, making Daehyun swallow convulsively.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” Himchan says with a grimace.

Daehyun wants a hole to open up in the ground underneath him to make him disappear. He bites his lip and tries to keep his voice steady when he says, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Himchan says. “Like, I’ve been thinking about how much you’ve done for me and for Junhong and for Jongup. What you mean to them. This summer really flew by.”

“Yeah,” Daehyun agrees, unable to say more. His knees feel locked in place.

Himchan pokes at the lump of burnt meat in one of the pans with a spatula forlornly, breathing in deeply and exhaling slowly once. The smoke starts to clear, but Daehyun’s eyes are still watering. Maybe he shouldn’t have come. Wouldn’t this have been better over the phone?

“I realized something,” Himchan says, and Daehyun can only nod in response. “You can’t work for us anymore.”

His ears buzz and his heart almost stops. It hits him harder than he thought it would, the thought of never seeing him again, of never seeing the kids again. His vision blurs. “What?” he manages to choke out.

Himchan’s hands flutter around him like leaves in the fall. They settle onto his shoulders and then he is pulled close, drawn into the scent of old spice and vanilla. Himchan holds him like he is something precious.

“I’m sorry. That came out wrong. You can’t work here anymore because I want us to have a relationship. A real one. And I can’t keep you on as a babysitter. I hope you understand.”

Daehyun’s mind is unable to process the total opposite of what he’d expected, and he stands there gulping huge breaths of air trying not to shake apart, Himchan’s hold on him strong and capable. “I,” he says. “I--”

A swell of warmth in his chest that makes him smile. Himchan pulls back and Daehyun flushes from the way the older man is smirking at him like he’s very tricky indeed. Daehyun smacks him on the arm, not really hard enough to hurt, then buries his burning face in Himchan’s neck, his arms wrapping tight around Himchan’s torso.

“Daehyun,” Himchan whispers into his ear, “I love you. Will you be my boyfriend?”

"Yes," Daehyun whispers back, and they kiss in the kitchen, and the smoke detector goes off anyway.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you made it and i love you and thank you for reading this and for giving it a chance and for leaving kudos and comments omg i love you guys so much

**Author's Note:**

> If you hadn't noticed, this is like my favorite trope and I think it's severely lacking in this fandom, fyi.
> 
> [writing](andnowforyaya.tumblr.com) || [twitter](https://twitter.com/andnowforyaya)


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